40 and Fabulous

Let me say, again, that I am in my forties. And, after all, 44 is just a number. In fact, it is twice the number of the actual age I would like to be. At this point, a more literal minded woman may interject a lovely platitude extolling the virtues of maturity. Something like, "I've never felt so free" or "I am finally the person I hoped to become"-blah, blah, blah. Not me, I hate it. But, I have to say, I just hate the chronological order of it. Age is a state of mind, and I will be forever 21. (This is where that "I am a casual observer"and "not getting involved in the act of living" has come in handy for me. That and an oily complexion. Both ward off wrinkles and the signs of aging....but onward.)

I came into this world the third of four girls. I have 3 sisters-Roberta, Renee and Rachel. My name is Mary. In case you missed the glaringly obvious, I am the only child in my family with name beginning with something other than an R. And, I have blonde hair. My sisters are all brunettes. I know what you're thinking, but our postman was Armenian and my parents are devoute Catholics. Nothing to see here people.

And did I mention that I used to be chubby? That's what we used to call it. These days, it is obese, back then, it was chubby. Up until I was 40, I lived by the rules -didn't dare break the rules. I was that nice girl everybody liked. I volunteered, I made costumes for Spring Programs, I worked the concession stands, I baked cakes for the church bazaar, I was a model parent and had supper on the table every night at 6pm for the man I loved. And then I turned 40.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I had spent so many years helping others. So many years giving others the "leg up" and over the fence, that I found that I was the only one left on my side of the fence. Everybody else had moved on, and, I am afraid to report, I had no one to help me over the fence. I needed to do something drastic.

I began to re-evaluate my life. My children were, for all intents and purposes, raised with all the morals and values they needed. My husband and I were past that stage where relationships are made or broken on the disclosure of an undesireable character flaw. Yes, it was time for a little focus on me.

I lost 45 pounds. It wasn't easy, but I did it. I worked hard at developing those curves. I also paid $5000 for "two curves on my chest", but that's another story for another time. I got contact lenses and a tatoo. No explanation, just because I wanted to. I started to reconnect with me.

I changed my view of the world and my place it in. I no longer believed that dreams can come true if you wish hard enough. It's every man for himself. Points are not awarded for hard work and your permanent record is just a phrase used to keep adolescents in line. If you like something, buy it, even if it happens to be low-rise jeans, and well, you're not 20 anymore. There is no point in keeping up with the Jones. The Jones are horrible people and nobody likes them anyways.

The only thing that matters in life is this-there is only one person in this world that can make you happy. That person is YOU.