I awoke this morning at 830 with a smug grin upon my face happy to see the warm beam of sunlight stretched across my bedroom. It’s New Year’s Day and I feel great. But I realize it’s happened.
I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring the scraggly, grey hair peeking out along my root line or pretending everyone makes noises when they stand up out of a chair or even believing the dryer is shortening all my pants. But I could not deny that last night when we briefly tuned in on the NYE celebration and some odd looking kid was singing something with the word “nasty” in it while contorted scantily clad women hung precariously over a crowd of bouncing drunken people that it had to go away. I’d rather sleep than try to make sense of that; on New Year’s Eve or any other random Tuesday.
I imagine I noticed it first with my shoes. I favor comfort over all other choices for shoes. I once wore the most ridiculous and uncomfortable shoes, high heels, blister rubbing straps, pointy toes. Not so much anymore. I like to look nice, but it’s not a prerequisite for leaving the house. I went for a walk today with my jeans rolled up past my ankles, wearing argyle socks and running shoes. I cared enough to notice it, but not enough to take the time to change. Anne Lamont once said (and this is not meant as an exact quote) it’s not that I think less of myself, it’s just that I think of myself less.
It’s nice, to give up on the facade a little bit. Relax. Embrace the wrinkles, well perhaps not embrace just yet. But at least I’m comfortable, happier even staying home on New Year’s Eve.
I probably mentioned I’m not a fan of NYE parties (and don’t even get me started on valentines day). Way too many NYEs ended in disappointment. That day holds way too much weight for just one day. It’s like blaming the kicker for losing the state championship in the last seconds of the football game. We forget there’s a whole game leading up to that point, a whole season. It seems like there’s one last chance to pull out a win, but there were hundreds of other opportunities buried in the middle of all those other minutes.
It’s really not my intention to sound pessimistic, in fact just the opposite. Every moment is an opportunity to start over, to try again, to let go something that’s bad for you,to hold something that’s good for you closer. Eat better today, next week and all through the year and if you find yourself in February with an empty box of chocolate covered cherries and a belly ache-start over the next day.
As for me…I shall spend the morning smugly enjoying my coffee and planning to find time to dye my roots.