I believe the Big Boy Upstairs (that would be THE Big Boy, not to be confused with My Big Boy) is chuckling this morning. You see, today is my last 49-year-old day. I mean really, we should be having some bravado here. My goodness, I even named a blog after it. Shouldn’t it be a pretty darn special day?
I had such plans, to do it up right, enjoy every last waking breath of being 49. A parade, music, balloons…at least, a nice lunch out. Had visions of donning a nice outfit, putting on makeup, curling my hair and giving 49 one last hurrah. Instead…
Here I sit in the same sweatpants and t-shirt I slept in, moaning and groaning at every movement of my body. You see Arthur and I(arthritis that is) have had a little date. The weather made a major change yesterday and so did my body. (I’m beginning to be a firm believer in this weather changing theory). So today, on my last 49 day, I hurt. Really hurt. And I’m not moving too fast, getting dressed seems insurmountable. Everything I do is in slow motion. No dancing, no parades, maybe not even getting out the front door. So there goes the ‘One Last Day’ party! And I think THE Big Boy is shaking his head and laughing…
“Ahhh, Michaela, you see, the joke is on you… 49 is not much different than 50. Older is older. It’s all in the attitude. Some days are great, some aren’t so great. Find joy in them all. Count your blessings. And love your best.”
Thanks for taking the ride with me, and just so you know…and the day after tomorrow, if you ask…I will forever be…49andcounting.
49andcounting 