I am six months away from the big Four-Oh. I see streaks of gray in my hair nowadays. Crows feet adorn my reflection, and I know less than half of the young “it” girls in US Magazine. The other night I read one of the Olivia books to my children and found myself identifying, not with the audacious Olivia, but with her strung-out mother who wanted her to stop jumping on the frigging bed.
The signs abound: My spring chickenhood has left the building.
And it is with great admiration I read other bloggers’ 40 before 40 lists.
But that’s not my style.
You know what is my style? Making a long as list of what I will NOT be doing before July 21, because (1) lists are fun and (2) this one comes with no pressure to perform.
It’s the anti-bucket list, or the bucket-with-a-giant-hole-in-it list.
Here’s what I won’t be doing in the next few months:
- I’m not climbing any damn mountains. Screw that. It’s enough work just to get my two children to the Target that is one mile away at the same elevation.
- No dream trips. While I love the idea of a great getaway, I can’t stomach the effort it would take to plan the actual trip, arrange childcare, and then force myself to have a good time.
- No body projects. I’m not going vow to lose weight or have my ass Botoxed or try to chisel this delectable muffin top. The entire idea of making a body goal exhausts me and fills me with white hot stabby energy.
- No lofty self-love goals. While I won’t be scheduling extra Zumba classes to make my temple leaner, I am also not making any promises that I will fall madly in love with my body beautiful. Self-acceptance is a treasure, but it’s going to be a lifelong journey, not a six-month sprint.
- No life-altering athletic events. I’ve already done triathlons and marathons and 10Ks and 10-milers. I don’t want these anywhere near my broken bucket– they had their chance when I was in my 30s. The ship sailed.
- Finish my novel. Nope, this isn’t on the bucket list. While I am itching to get the book out of my head and heart, the truth is that it’s a labor of love and passion and I am pouring my guts into it. It simply can’t be shoved onto a bucket list, even if it would make me look cool. (But if it would make me look skinny . . . I might consider it.)
- No skydiving. I can’t see the appeal at all. I am terrified half out of my insane brain just standing right here on solid ground. I’ll just check out Google Earth, thankyouverymuch.
- Pole dancing class. Um, no and no. I think I covered that curriculum back in 1993 at the Sigma Chi mixer.
- There will be no tattoos. While it would be a fun way to add a splash of color to my life, I’m passing on it because NEEDLES.
- I’m not buying the perfect little black dress. This one is absolutely not going to happen because of all the things I would have to do first. Namely, obtain a real bra and shave. Nevergonnahappen.
- Also: no computer programming, cooking, learning how to make wine/beer; nothing about sex, exotic foods, public speaking or sticking to a budget
Good Lord, I’m exhausted. How must those plucky people with a 40-item to-do list feel?
The good news is that without all those annoying goals hanging over my head, I will have plenty of time to blog about the big things like open-mouth naps, lingerie from the Target clearance rack, and COSTCO.
It’s going to be a great six months!