I'm Back, and I'm Forty

Here's a pretty sunset for you, taken outside my front door this week. 

It makes sense to me that the last time I posted here was at the end of October, 3 months ago-- because that's about the last time I really felt "right" with food.  Since then, I've been adrift in a sea of Halloween candy, cupcakes that I felt entitled to because it was my birthday and series of other junk binges I convinced myself I needed so that I didn't have to feel.

What am I… new?  It's like everything I learned about pacing myself in high school and college just went out the window.  Truth be told, I felt a little let down by myself that night.  I wanted the evening to be a bit more respectable.  I at least wanted to be able to remember what happened to my left zippered heel.  I was turning 40 after all… not 22.

Then I remembered something I heard about women celebrating their 40th birthdays, like it's pretty common for them to celebrate big and get stupid-drunk.  And it's specifically because they are not 22 anymore that they go off the rails in celebration.  So, I can take comfort in knowing that I am a 40-year-old, over-compensating drunken cliche.  Fantastic.

Here's a wildly unoriginal musing about being 40, not 22.  After I heard the Taylor Swift song, 22, I did the math and was depressed to learn that my 6 year-old son is closer to 22 than I am.  I was feeling all proud of that discovery until I read on someone else's blog that she had figured out the same thing and blogged about it first.  Boo.  Not feeling so proud or original anymore. ;-)