My thirties took away my tight arse,
my tight lips too, apparently,
and my tight skin. Sag much?
It also delivered to me a tightwad mentality when it comes to
my energy and who and what I spend it on.
But also a total non-tightwad mentality when it comes to
and target visits.
All in all, my thirties have been a blessing — in that I care a shiitake ton less what other people think about me and am relentlessly trying to be worthy of all that that has been blessed upon me.
You see, there's more to life than looking pretty.
There's more to life than being a size 0, and seriously, 0, it's like barely even a number, and I've just got to ask, why in the heavens would you want to be barely anything?
Be a lot of everything. Be all of who you are.
Who am I? I'm a 35-year-old mother of three, with forehead wrinkles, barely-there micro-bladed brows, yellowing teeth, saggy boobies, and a "jelly belly," as my kids like to call it.
I'm not the definition of pretty.
BUT I don't let other people define me, so there's that, and it's working for me, and maybe it'll work for you.
The next time you look in the mirror and feel less than impressed with your aging self, remind that stellar B in the mirror that she's all she ever needs to be because she is you AND SHE'S EFFING FANTASTIC.
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