So, I’m coming up on 36 here pretty soon. In the blogosphere that makes me one of the older more senior bloggers. I also am on Day 12 of coming off Effexor. From what I gather, this makes me normaler than someone…say, with an addiction to peanut M&M’s.

And now, having glanced at my chest in my newest bathing suit cover-up, “wear around the house thingy” (‘cuz the good Lord knows I won’t be walking outside with it on), I see that I’m getting age spots, or splotches, or uneven skin tone, or whatever else the media calls it in order to make us hate ourselves.

Freckles, splotches...yep, mid 30s are here.

And you know what?
I don’t.

I don’t hate myself.

My thighs jiggle, my heels crack, my biceps wave, my chin is not as taunt, my get-up-and-go is sitting still, and I’ve found a few wrinkles in areas I didn’t know wrinkled, BUT life is good.


The world? It bites.
My life in it? Is good.

I can still stand up and sing.
I can still shout for joy.
I can still worship and praise!
I can still make sweet, sweet love.

Spots and all.
Today is awesome.

I’d dip some in a jar for safekeeping, except tomorrow?

It might just be better.