33

🎈33: thanks for the extra white hairs coming in, the assortment of fine (frown and laugh) lines in my expression, my molasses like metabolism, and the little surprises with the ache in my joints and spasm in my muscles. talk about body party. thanks for the humble reminder that everything I do to attempt to keep you healthy, is really to delay deterioration and how eating spicy ass food has it’s dire consequences. on a side note, thanks for my extra durable colon. Inspite of all the visible signs, I wouldn’t trade you for my teens nor twenties because teenagers smell weird and growing as a 30 something has been the best and most valuable years yet. You’ve taught me plenty in 2016. As a result, I feel more ‘planted’ than ever because my feet knows where it consciously chooses to stand, with my head and heart assertively leading the way.

I looked into the mirror this morning as you whispered softly “dim sum chicken feet” into my ears. With bated breath, I made it happen and chicken feet is what was had. dreams do come true. you’re welcome. :p

With no makeup and morning breath that can kill a house plant, it was still a solid feeling simply being able to recognize my own reflection not for it’s shell or external condition, but what I know to be true on the inside deep down into my bones. you’ve grounded me.

above all, the best (and hardest) lesson you teach me every single year as the years add on is that “the only way out is through.” there are no shortcuts and if there is one, it’s likely a cliff ahead without a warning sign, lol

here’s to another beautiful 365… Thanks alistair for a day of obesity eats & these blizzard cupcakes. xx

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