Days like this are hard. The 4yo ran into a handrail after school, she’d come out all smiles and happiness and minutes later she was sobbing with a swollen eye. It was all I could do not to join her.
This stupid cold holds firm with its grip, snatching my appetite and making any food preparation feel like torture. Typically the mirror image doesn’t reflect this, in fact if anything I look more bloated and cyclindrical.
I’m tired of the energy it takes to stay on an even keel, to ignore life’s injustices and build barriers against the moral and physical wrongs that go on around me. I feel old, lacking the vigour of my former self. I see things that make me want to scream and yet I know I don’t have the staying power to see them through so I sit in quiet disagreement.
I’m making plans, plans that involve changes to how I look after myself. I’m tired of feeling wretched and dripping with lethargy, it’s time to shed that skin and stop pretending that the habits I’ve developed over the last three decades aren’t affecting the way I feel. I know that I’m sensitive to lactose and yet I gorge on chocolate and cheese. Bread turns me into Mr Stay-Puft, a fact that I ignore and carry on regardless.
I know how lucky I am. Being surrounded by wonderful family and friends makes me want to appreciate my life, to make the most of it. I’ve been following Rosie’s journey lately, meeting people who have little choice and nothing to take for granted. It makes humbling reading and I’d recommend you take a minute to have a look.
In 2 years I’ll be 40. I have only minor issues with that fact. What I want though is to be in every sense Fit for Forty – this is the start…