Thursday, January 29, 2015

Getting Old

It's happening.

I'm 44 now.

Forty fucking four.

Not cool.

In my mind, I'm still that 17 year old bratty, big haired, limber, silly girl without a clue and a ton of energy.

In my mind and in reality, two different things.

In reality I'm 44. I am sore on a daily basis. I am crotchety. I moan and groan and complain. I have shingles and fibro and RA and migraines. I move at a snails pace.

Aging isn't cool. So, I keep my hair purple. I have tattoos, with no end in sight. I gauge my ears and have as many piercings as I have fingers. I've let loose. I've allowed myself to.

Youth is wasted on the young, I'm a very firm believer. Now that I'm older, I know more, I have more experience. In everything. I don't apologize for judging. I judge because I'm human. I speak. I speak loud, often and back. I make myself heard. I allow myself to be heard. I demand to be heard.

All things that I was told not to do as a child and young adult, I allow myself because I learned to love myself and taught myself that I matter.

My one hope is that who I am now is who my children are earlier. It's working. For the most part, they are both light years from where I was at each of their ages. So, I've done something right.

In closing, because my body can't sit at a desk chair for longer than a few moments before it starts to scream in agony, LIVE out loud. Don't apologize. And, most importantly, be good to your young body. I never thought I'd live this long.

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