FORTY SOMETHINGYes, 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 side. That is not to say that I won’t make a pit stop at Baskin Robbins or frozen food section at 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 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 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 past. Oh well, there will be no stilettos for me for a while.