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.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

7) Acceptance and Hope

(0 days left EST; 51 minutes remaining PST)

The clock has gone past midnight here in NYC.

After I showered, I looked at the mirror and applied my intensive moisturizer on my 39ish/40ish face. I inspect it thoroughly. It seems that all's the same.
I looked down at my toes and they are in tact. The same chubby digits that could either fit in a 6.5 to 7 wide shoes, or 7 to 8 if squeezing into narrow pumps. My arms appear to have the same white spec on the right forearm where I've had it since 34. Even my hair is still thirsting for the same hair gunk for me to command it.

Ok, I guess it was not as earth-shattering as I thought it would be. If not for the tremendous amounts of texts from Manila and NY, I wouldn't have realized it actually.

So off I go now to get some sleep as I party all day tomorrow and throughout the weekend. With the people I love. In the city I adore.

I will talk to you all when I am fully 4-0 in all time zones.
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