My Mission

I have decided to take you on a ride. As I spend the last year of my 30s, I will take you with me. That’s right. This year, I am 39. 3---9. Hard for me to say it without choking up. I hate admitting it, and I’d rather not think about it. But hey, isn’t it the new 29? Yeah right.

Mortified and in deep denial, I realized the best way for me to deal with this crisis is to face it head on. That if I were to grow older gracefully like many of the classy ladies I so admire (Lauren Hutton, Diane Lane, Diane Keaton), I better accept it. And I better hustle.

So I want to relish my 39th year by celebrating it as best as I could every day. I want to make each day purpose-driven. Of course deep down I will be horrified, fearful and depressed from time to time, but I really do want my 39th year to matter. Really matter. I am not discounting that I did manage to improve the last 2 decades. But somehow there was no urgency. I guess the saying, "Youth is wasted on the young" finally makes sense to me. I always thought I'd be that cool older lady...the one that doesn't sweat her age. But now that the big 4-0 is around the corner, I do feel some dampness on my forehead. WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING THE PAST 39 years?!!

Major or minor changes, they are all stuff that I’ve been carrying around with me for a long time. I just don't want that weight on me anymore. Because it's not about growing up and becoming oh so mature for me. What it is, is "me" growing better.

So at least every week, I will candidly share with you my adventures in attempting to become a better version of me. And as my birthday is November 5, I only have 9 months and 4 days left. By the time I am blowing 40 candles, I sure hope that aside from the fire extinguisher, I carry with me that confidence that I am yet to reach my prime.

Wish me luck.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Turning Point

(9 months and 4 days)
This is not new to a lot of people.
But in my life so far, I have always indicated the mark of any great undertaking with a haircut.
Not a trim, but a cut. A chop actually.
Photobucket
It’s a ritual for me. Much like a warrior prepares for battle by painting his face, I cut and dye my hair instead. And then buy a new lipstick. This time around, a nice spicy and very improper red.
This is how I mentally prepare. And this is how I see the real me. With short hair I feel most like myself.
Remember “Roman Holiday” with Audrey Hepburn? That’s the feeling.
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