"Hey, mom. Know how old you are? You're as old as the Egg McMuffin!"
Only minutes before, he'd been stunned to learn that I'm turning 50. "Fifty??!! But...that's half a century! I thought you were, like, 47!!"
I remember when 50 sounded old. It still does. I see my aging idols on stage, and they still have it going on. But they are 50. They are old. Julie just died at 49. 50 has always been that threshold. Gateway to the elderly. There's no turning back now. I'm halfway to 100.
But I don't feel old.
Sure, sometimes my left knee does something wonky and I wonder if it remembers which way to bend. Sure, there was that week last spring when my arches seemingly forgot to arch and I immediately bought out all of the Dr. Scholl's section at Meijer. Sure, I dropped out of the Detroit 1/2 marathon this year because I was worried I wouldn't make the time cut.
But I don't feel particularly old.
I got ID'd yesterday, buying bourbon. I ran a couple of miles over the weekend. I still understand the words coming out of my students' mouths. No cap. I kinda really want Taylor Swift tickets. And every day, I feel my quads as I climb the stairs. I feel my vertebrae as I stretch. I feel the potential.
I don't feel old.
Back in January, a million years ago and just yesterday, I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish this year, the year I turned 50. This was my to-do list. (Spoiler...I didn't do it all. Or even most of it...)
Move intentionally for 50 minutes each day. Walk? Run? Dance (like a formerly Baptist white girl)? Channel my inner Jillian Michaels? Shaun T? Billy Blanks? Jeff Galloway? Adriene Mishler? What does that 50 minutes look like and how in the hell do I make it happen? Stay tuned…
I mean...sometimes? Sometimes I did. Sometimes I didn't. I tried to get my steps in. I trained for the 1/2 marathon, and got up to 10 miles before life and COVID got in the way. But did I move intentionally every day? Probably not.
Get rid of 50 items of clothing. Don’t pretend that I’ll have time to sell it. I won’t. I really should just delete Mercari and Poshmark. Maybe I’ll do the hanger thing. Maybe I’ll Marie Kondo the closet. (we all know I probably won’t do that.) Maybe I’ll just get rid of stuff that isn’t comfortable. I can do that.
Girl. I totally did this. I got rid of a LOT of stuff. 3 boxes sent to ThredUp. 2 more dropped of to charity. I still have more to sort through, but I definitely got rid of some stuff.
Break the “Shopping High” addiction. Do. Not. Buy. Clothes (or shoes) in 2022. Do Not. (Except for bras and running shoes. But I will not buy impulsively. I will not buy online. I will not.)
I worked really hard on this. I did buy some things. I blame my job. They changed their mascot, and that led to some purchases. Also, harem pants came back into fashion. Just sayin...But I was a lot better this year. A lot more frugal. Fewer impulse buys. Fewer hopeful purchases. Fewer Facebook scams. I did buy clothes (mostly hoodies. and harem pants) but I broke the addiction. And, fwiw, I still haven't found a comfortable bra.
Drink 50 oz of pure water each day. Not coffee. Not tea. Not Coke Zero. Not Seltzer. Not Vodka. Not water with vodka. Just pure water. Drink it. (And then drink the other things.)
Yeah, no.
Write 50 blog posts. They don’t have to be good. They just have to be. Look, a list! Blog post #1 done.
I think I wrote 11.
Lose 50 lbs. I know, I know. Weight loss should never be a New Year’s Resolution. But I’m tired of feeling run-down and I know why I feel this way, and I need to value my own health more than I value a drink or some fries or my pride.
There's a reason that weight loss should never be a New Year's Resolution. I only lost 5 lbs this year. But you know what? I don't feel tired and run-down and dragged out anymore. I'm not where I want to be, but I feel better about where I am. So...even though the scale hasn't really moved, I'm going to call this one a win.
Go to bed (on average) 50 minutes earlier S-Th. 50 minutes means more sleep, less alcohol, less mind-numbing. Rest more.
I averaged 30 minutes more sleep/night. Except, yanno, tonight. 'Cause that's how averages work.
Make an extra $50/week through subbing and save it for something special. Maybe take that trip, finally, with the girls.
I did take that trip with the girls. And I did start the upper half of my sleeve. I haven't paid down debt. But I did save for something(s) special. And it was worth the extra work.
Make an extra $50/week through freelance and pay down debt.
See above. Still debty.
Do something technology-free for 50 min/day. Meditation? Reading? Going for a walk? Put the phone down and just exist in the world.
I actually read a couple of books this year. And that was huge. To sit with a book, screens off, and just allow myself the time --guilt free-- to read. I can't wait for the next break to be able to read again. I rebuilt some of that reading stamina, and now I just need to carve out the time.
So, that was my to-do list for 2022. My 50th year (that I know of) on this planet.
I really didn't hit my target(s). But I also feel pretty okay about where I'm at.
And I'm officially as old as the Egg McMuffin, according to my son.
But --spoiler alert-- I always have been.
And the Egg McMuffin has been around for 50 years because it's a damn good sandwich. With or without the Canadian Bacon (I choose without, because, ewww, FLESH), it comes in around 300ish calories of reliable comfort food. It'll fill you up without making you regret your life choices.
And an Egg McMuffin? It's a classic. But also current. It's kind of fucking delicious. A perfect blend of crunchy and savory and salty and protein. It's satisfying. It's not going anywhere.
