So, forty finally arrived. It looks alien on the screen to me. Me, 40! It sounds so mature. Grown up. Like I should be able to knit. Or at least sew a button on.
I know you want to know whether I was indeed Fab at Forty. Well of course I couldn’t say…but I can say that after ten months of counting and pointing and shaking my thang at Zumba, I’ve managed to knock a couple of stone and a couple of dress sizes off. Never got to my holy grail 12 though, so at least I’ve still got something I can put on my New Year list.
After not knowing what to do, I decided to have a party, where enough people duly oohed and aahed about my reinvention to have made it worthwhile. Three generations of family raised a glass, and friends old and new put on their gladrags and helped me have a lovely time. But now what? I’ve been planning for months, buying shimmery and glimmery doo-dahs to put some fab in the very functional function room. I’ve glittered up invitations, sourced the perfect dress, found a mini-me version for Daughter, made paper pom poms…and now it’s done and dusted. I’m without project. I am suffering list-less-ness. Well of course there’s a list of kinds – it’s Christmas time for goodness sakes, who operates without a list?! But there’s no overriding list, no pressing project…and I don’t like it. I’ve got plenty to do, with some list potential – no Christmas cards written, no presents wrapped (not even all bought – eek!), and no comprehensive outfit plans for me and Daughter, not a morsel planned for the Boxing Day Buffet (that probably won’t be a buffet this year – too much pastry and clock watching for all those little mini fancies that pretty much all taste the same!) – but no next project.
So what should it be? My wise friend J would tell me to just be. Be present in the moment. Good advice. But I do like a plan. So until it’s time to start on the summer holiday plans, I’m going to have to stretch out my mini lists. But I might just get a brochure…