Birthdays Make Us Say Stuff

My daughter's school birthday celebration

Yesterday I turned 41-years-old. I’ve been allowing a sneaky thought to find its way into my brain. Because I’m 41 it’s okay to not exercise or care about my body. I’ve been eating whatever I want and not doing anything for making myself feel strong and powerful and beautiful.

Yes, I’ve been going to therapy and that’s a huge thing. Yes, I’m introspective.

Yes, I realize that I don’t need my body to be perfect to feel good about myself.

I won’t lie and say I want to get in shape for purely health reasons, although that’s the major impetus.

I feel bad about the condition of my whole being. I know exercise and eating right will make me feel better on all levels. Yet I’ve been resistant to change.

I’m so busy being a mom to three little kids and writing and doing publicity. I feel guilty taking time for myself. But if I take some time to get healthy, won’t that help on all levels of my existence?

Today, I change.

Today is my first tennis class; it is 90 degrees out.

The paramedics may need to be called.