Last week ended reasonably calmly after all – I even managed to fit in three consecutive workouts – an absolute first. Although it did mean I felt every one of my 41 years by Friday night. How I miss the energy of my misspent youth!
Yesterday I finally managed to go to my long awaited hair appointment where my lovely hairdresser transformed me as always into an improved version of me – if somewhat neater than usual – and with some flame red attitude. Less librarian, more Florence and The Machine.
I’ve returned the inappropriately youthful clothing and have a lovely pair of boots on order instead – what can I say, you can never have too many pairs of boots – especially ones you could walk a few miles in.
I’m also looking forward to a visit from my parents who are south of the border from Wednesday through Saturday. Our family is scattered around quite a bit so it’s lovely to spend time together however infrequent it is. Let’s hope I can keep up with them – they could put an Olympic Athlete to shame at times.
And so I’m entering into next week full of my usual optimism and devil may care attitude. Wonder if I’ll make it to 10am Monday with that optimism intact?
I’ve been AWOL from these pages for a while – in part because on an open forum there’s only so much you can divulge and in part because if I write it, it must be true.
So, here’s the gist of things: work has been a little bit too exciting of late. I’m usually pretty sanguine and good at reacting to crises with a cool head and I’m known to be generous with my sage-like advice (that’s what I’ll be writing in my appraisal document anyway!!!) but October has totally sucked.
Some key members of staff have been hospitalised (now well on the road to recovery); one checked himself into A&E after a bad parachute landing (ok apart from cranial bruising), and a key nerd has spent more time at the Vet’s than at work – and that’s just the good stuff. One poor soul was stuck in the elevator for over 2 hours (we were in the process of collating emergency rations – bourbon, burger king, bucket) – before he was freed – he did have to climb out – all exciting stuff.
So, all of my energy has been spent trying to pretend that all of this is normal – and in sorting the anxiety dreams from the nightmares. And in believing that tomorrow will be better – it’s a good job that I’m an optimist.
But, you now have my full attention again. So await the postings and the shoes.
I turned 41 this year which was a relief if I’m honest. That benchmark year (the one with the ‘0’) is behind me and I can now completely embrace my fabulous forties, without lamenting the loss of my youth.
I’m lucky that both me and Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits still have a full set (parents, siblings, etc), and know how incredibly lucky we are that we have been blessed in this way. And then we watched “This is Forty” – and could relate to a lot of that film. Left to our own devices we still feel as though we should be supervised at all times, but we know what we like, and are comfortable with the choices that we’ve made and the life that we’ve lived and which we continue to live.
We also understand each other, I’m cold in the evenings but suffer what can only be described as hot flushes in the mornings and the Mr is the opposite (well, without the hot flush part). On our recent holiday, by the time I shuffled out of the shower, he had already opened all of the windows to cool me down (he gets weirded out by my sweaty upper lip – but then again, who wouldn’t?)
I also love clothes and admire those who have an individual style (hence my following of MasonBentley and Citizens of Fashion). I think that I’ve found my signature look and and I don’t tend to veer away from it very often – if I feel weird in anything then it’s a no-go. I still make mistakes – but regular readers know my penchant for internet shopping and those little (or big) parcels of loveliness – so any mistakes can be returned easily, sans embarrassment. Occasionally my heart rules my head – this week I have a big return to make – I made the mistake of trying to recapture my rock chick days, but in a more grown up sophisticated way. I opened the afore mentioned medium-sized parcel of loveliness that arrived, but realised my error when the office fashionista deemed my purchases ‘brave’. And she’s 22. She approved of one of the pairs of shoes, but when I put the chunky heeled size 3’s on, I felt like a real life Minnie Mouse. Needless to say, it’s all going back.
And so, I reiterate, 40+ is a funny, but totally fabulous age.