Feeling 40

On the morning of my 38th birthday I promised myself I would be in the best shape of my life by my 40th birthday. I gave myself 2 years, hauled my Not-A-Morning-Person ass out of bed at 5:45am, and headed for my first reformer class. So lots of core work and runs later minus lots of unnecessary carbs (though not totally paleo), I have to say, I am pretty proud of myself.

And, though I can say with confidence that I feel better and look better than I ever have–while I wholeheartedly believe that 40 is the new 20–I must admit there are some tell-tale signs that I have the physiology of a 40 year old.

1) I have grey hairs.

2) I have more chin hair than my husband (who is rockin’ a full beard these days!)

3) Worse, some of those chin hairs are grey too!

4) No amount of investment in an industrial strength push-up bra will re-orient my boobs.

5) Speaking of boobs, mammograms. Ugh.

6) I rock raccoon eye. Not just when I am post-call or have been crying. Nope, just All. The. Time.

7) I have a pooch. Not my puppy, rather a tenacious fold of abdominal skin that mimics a beer gut without any of the beer.

8) I can sense the weather in my toes (don’t blame the heels!), my knees (don’t blame the running!), and my left thumb (blame surgery!).

9) A night out is staying up past 9pm without pajamas on.

10) I have forgotten what 10 is.

Happy Birthday to Me! I’m feelin’ 40.