Finally, you are officially fifty-two. The daughter has been teasing, calling you, "52" since the day after you celebrated number fifty-one. The taunting, good in nature coming after you did something particularly 52-ish, like forget where you were going mid-step or a word mid-sentence, or something like put your shirt on backwards and inside out, has served as a constant reminder that, well, fudge, you're gettin' UP there.
But that's okay. Gettin' UP there ain't so bad especially if you have your health and some semblance of your mind. Or so I've been told.
That said, dear Deborah, the birthday was several days ago and I'm writing today to tell you that the partying must be over. Enough with the Irish whiskey, French vodka (two martinis at Melting Pot! Really? two?) Belgian Beer, and the rich desserts. Enough! Truth be known you've been in celebratory mode for the entire month prior to your birthday weekend.
Well, that's what we'll call it, celebrating.
But I know the truth, and deep down, so do you. And I'm here to tell you here and now,
Enough!
No more blaming the heat, heartache, knee pain, crappy dye jobs, or crappier days at work. No more drowning in the dumps because your mom is...well, who she is and your dad, not a dad at all. I won't mention your brothers because well, what is the point of that?
Enough!
Your calendar notation for Tuesday reads, 'early AM ride' and did you? NO! It wasn't raining, wasn't unbearably hot. Sure, you were out late Monday (and again, two martinis?okay enough about that, it WAS your birthday, but still . . ) true enough, but if the skipping days doesn't stop doesn't stop you won't get back on track. And you must, you know, get BACK at It and YOU KNOW IT!! It is so much more than a body thing, it is a mind thing.
So, have some Hil....
AND get your head out of your ass and get said ass in gear. I don't give, to steal a phrase from daughter, "two shits and a fuck" about your looking sexy for the beach (or whatever) but I do want you to feel good. Bump that, I want you to feel GREAT, inside and out. I want you to think, I want you to write, I want you to create. I love what the actor said the other day, "crazy for creatives!" I want the two of you to collaborate. I want. I want. I want...YOU BACK!! Now, dammit. I want to see you, feel you, hear you fucking Laugh Out LOUD once a day, every day right up to birthday number fifty-three.
And then some.
Happy, happy, joy, joy...for realz.
♥,
ME
