The older I get the more I buy into the slogan of…”40 is the new 20.” (Yeah, right tell that to my thighs). I hate the fact that gravity is Mother Nature’s cruel joke to women – hey we’re suppose to be on the same side.
I really noticed a change in my body at about 30. Things that were once firm and, uhum, higher, get more saggy and baggy as the sadistic hand of time marches on.
With each year I put under my ever-expanding belt, birthdays become more and more of a reminder that I’m not twenty-something anymore. And, it doesn’t matter how many mantras I recite in my head, the fact is I’m getting older. Now I guess there’s only the wiser part to look forward to – when exactly does that kick in?
The truth is. . .age is only a number. . .we are as young as we feel…40 IS the new 20. And perhaps, if I tell myself this enough, my thighs will eventually catch on too.
Happy Birthday? You decide.