Well the other day I turned 40, and boy do I feel old! Not really. I kid you. I do feel different though. I feel better. I feel better to leave those pesky 30s behind me. What good are they? Except for confusing the hell out of us. I think I was freaked out for the entire decade. Panic attacks, worry, redefining myself… Exhausting! Today I feel sick and tired of that shit and I just am happy to begin the best part of my life. 40 is da shit I tell you! 40 crushes the little girlyman 30s and ignorant, glib-ass 20s. Poop on you hot, fresh youngins with your perfect bodies and bluetooths – being handed prestigious solo shows fresh out of art school. Ya’ll aint got nuthin on me, I’m 40! Four-oh! And I can kick, streeetch aaand kick! I’m forty years old! (Okay, maybe I can’t kick so well, but I can almost touch my toes.)
The only thing I still have to schlep around with me from my 30s are these 30 extra pounds. What is with that? I know that some of the weight comes from medications I have to take, but why should my laziness and indulgences in ice cream be so punishing? I remember ingesting nothing but candy, peanut butter and cigarettes throughout my 20s and never gaining so much as an ounce. In fact, I think I lost weight. And in my 30s, the pounds came at me slowly but shirley. Fuckin’ Shirley. She’s such a see-you-next-tuesday.All of my 30s I lamented my wondrous smoking, thinking that was my ticket to skinny. I considered taking it up again, but alas I probably would have just been a fat smoker opposed to the smelly, musty waif I once was. Oh how youth is wasted on the moronic young.
Okay I think I’m done ranting and raving about my pot belly. I need to go to my Spanish lesson and get ready for a special visitor that’s flying in on a 6pm flight from St Paul.
That white painting I’m working on is coming along, but I haven’t had as much time to work on it as I would have liked. Here it is, more than 3/4 done with the painting. It will need about 45-60 hours of sewing — at least. The mini garment patterns are in Hebrew. It says Stop apologizing for who you are.
Happy Birthday Carol! I have good news. It gets even better. Turning 50 was, for me anyway, the decade I began to really find myself. (I think I am one of those late bloomers!) Now I am gonna be 66 and I am much happier than those skinny youngsters. (Only disappointment is that I’m still waiting to grow boobs). Potbellies are easy. xo Wini Brewer
PS: I LOVE, LOVE the white painting. WIni
The 40’s are the new 30’s! I’m glad that you are embracing it. Oh, and being skinny is overrated. No worries. You look great anyway so quit worrying soo much. 🙂
Love love your new piece!
well, you don’t know me–but I’m in my forties, and i love your honesty and your art. Thanks for being so yourself and being so generous with your work in progress. It’s great stuff.
Happy birthday Carol.I really hope you had a great day.