Happy Birthday to me!
I saw someone write 39 yesterday and it seemed so old. 39. Thirty-nine!
A year to 40. THE big one.
I remember when my mom turned 40. Leading up to it was this big, huge looming beast of a year. It was ugly and scary, and it was unavoidable. I don't know why 40, why I remember how awful it was for her. But, I do...and, now, here I am.
I have decided to make my looming year a project. The best, most growth-filled year of my life. My mom's friend Renee had a month of parties before she turned 40. I remember she welcomed it by jumping both feet in. For me, this is the year that I stop dreaming and start doing. All the going toos are going to get got.
I start with this blog, and I have signed up for a 52 week photography course in self-portraiture. (I'm teetering on 365 days outside of the class, but that's a pretty big commitment. We'll see.) Then there's yoga and running. It's been too long a while and my aging body is feeling it. I've registered and paid for a half-marathon in June. Paid = Pledged. And I joined one of those gigantic fitness cruise ships with a great kids' program and a wood paneled women's change room with white towels, a steam room and all the latest magazines. I took my first yoga class there the other day, reminiscing about the last time I practiced yoga whilst living in a broken tent and sleeping on my mat. Such contrast in lifestyle between then and now. The difference between my 25 and 39 Self.
Thus begins my year. A chance to start anew.