Next week I will be 50. Fifty. No matter which way it’s written it still looks the same.
I’m not scared or depressed or anxious about achieving this milestone. Possibly because my anxiety at the moment is being all used up worrying whether I will get my next assignment done and in on time!
Actually I feel pretty good. I definitely feel more like a teenager than a middle aged woman. I still dance to video hits on the TV and I sing along too. Given the choice, I would much rather stay up all night and sleep in all day. Unfortunately the working world doesn’t quite approve of this schedule, so I’ve had to conform.
I’m fairly healthy too. I’m in nearly as good a shape as I was at 40. I eat well, I do weights three times a week and I try to fit in ten minute bursts of cardio when I can. I fit into jeans I haven’t worn for a year. OK, so the chilli chips and chocolate this weekend weren’t the best options, but a girl needs something to get her through a 2500 word English assignment!
The difference I do feel is to do with mortality. Suddenly, I realise I don’t have unlimited time left to do the things I want to do. When am I ever going to get the money to travel the world? Or to buy my own home?
I have a “bucket list” in my head. Things I’ve been meaning to do for awhile. The time has come to write them down and turn them into goals. Let’s see how many I can achieve before the sand has run through the hour glass and my time is up.