Forty Something
Yes, I am forty something, forty-four to be exact and loving it. There will be no botox injections, implants or liposuction for me. I will be just fine with what God gave me, enhanced by living and eating right, with a little exercise on the side. That is not to say that I won’t make a pit stop at Baskin Robbins or the frozen food section at the grocery store to take Mrs. Pillsbury and her chocolate chip, slice and bake cookies home every now and then. Or that I won’t arrange an occasional sleep over with my favorite beau, or more accurately put, my only beau. (My daughters may be reading.)
What I have learned in my pre-menopausal years is moderation, moderation, everything in moderation. Of course, some things should not be done at all. For example eating a half a gallon of ice cream in one feeding, or lusting after the 22 year-old cable guy, but that’s a whole other article.
Recently I went to my family reunion and after eating just a tad too much, I decided to join the youngsters in jumping rope, single and double-dutch. I jumped like I was 14, okay 18 again. My youngest sister Detra was in awe and I loved it. Unfortunately, my ankles are still recuperating from that blast from the past. Oh well, there will be no stilettos for me for a while.
I did mention earlier a beau and 2 grown daughters. Well, yes, I am also a statistic. A single/divorced, Black
mother who raised 2 beautiful daughters, and who by the way, both have college degrees - thank you very much. And I must add their dad was always there for all of us. We just got married way too young, at nineteen, it all worked out fine though. I thank the “All Mighty” for that regularly, amongst other things. Because I was married at 19, first baby at 20 and last baby at 22, it gets a little complicated when I try to convince my daughters, 22 and 24 to wait, especially when they both have willing beaus (I like that word, it sounds so romantic.) That was another time and this is a different world. I can wait for my grandbabies, I tell them. Well, enough reminiscing, back to the issue at hand.
While experiencing forty something I have noticed the, oh so subtle formation of jowls, dimples above my knees and the heart breaking loss of my 20/20 vision, which recently prompted me to see an eye doctor. Several return visits for testing have now rendered me a possible glaucoma victim. This is getting depressing, so before I change my mind, let me reiterate.
Yes, life is good, even at forty something, forty-four to be exact.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I am a new writer and I enjoy writing, somewhat humorously about many issues, most often women's issues. I think we need to take ourselves less seriously sometimes and embrace who we are and where we are now.
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