Even my (normally) mild-mannered co-worker couldn’t resist throwing that graphic taunt my way. (Of course, he was 300 miles away before he dared fling it remotely, courtesy of Twitter.)
Guess what? To those threatening to festoon my desk area at work with coffins… to the daughter who said (with a straight face, no less) that she “just didn’t know how she’d be able to handle having a 50 year old mother – it’s HARD on me, you know!” The ones who think I can’t keep up, can’t remember, can’t kick up my heels.
I’m happy with where I’ve been. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished – especially in the last year or so. (Per my doctor, my lipid panels are to die for, while I’m keeping the prescription drugs at bay.)
And if 50 means I can splurge on the occasional birthday donut from Little T – yet will inevitably follow it up with my now-daily bowl of salad greens (go, kale!) for lunch? Am limber enough that I can go dancing with my guy on a weekly basis – yet still bound out of bed the next day to take care of business (or head to the coast to go crabbing at dawn)?
Well, then – I’ll take 50. Because I’ve earned 50.
Happy birthday to me!