That is, I’ve turned 43. I’m now truly into my 40s. I started a new job near the end of my 42nd year. This time last year, I’d sent off some resumes for teaching positions. But the job I currently have had not been posted yet. It would be another month before that would happen.
For 43, I feel pretty damn good. I feel lucky to have been able to shift careers and to so far, be somewhat successful. I have much to learn, but that’s keeping me young.
I keep having these nagging dreams about my weight, which isn’t bad, but I think I’m subconsciously worried about it. I dreamt that I stepped on a scale and it zoomed up to well over 200. And then I dreamt that I took off my clothes and my body just expanded, like one of those expanding animals you add water to. I took my exercise clothes to work a week ago. A colleague and I have been planning to work out together, but neither of us have managed it yet. Friday is about the only day we don’t end up in an after-school meeting and we don’t feel like working out on Fridays. Sigh.
I was listening to the radio the other day and there was a local story about motivation to lost weight. The main thrust of the argument was that if you’re doing it for vanity, it’s less likely to work. Sadly, that’s where I am right now. Intellectually, I can discuss the health benefits, but emotionally, I’m in it to look good in my clothes.
I’d make it a goal for the next year to lose x number of pounds, but I think I’m too focused on other things. One day I’ll post here about going to the gym every day, but until then, I’ll settle for the way I look at 43. It’s not so bad.