Or am I being presumptuous to think that my life is THAT interesting?
Katie and I are about to get kickin' on our screenplay. It is a funny look at three women going through mid-life crises and all three are handling their aging in very different ways. Although our screenplay is not autobiographical, like all good writing, snippets of our lives peek in and out of the storyline. These women ask a lot of "what ifs" as they deal with the realities of aging and life choices.
Did I mention that I'm hitting the BIG four-oh in about three months? For some reason, over the last couple of months, this aging thing is hitting me. Hard. I've got a pretty long list of things I wanted to accomplish by the time I hit forty, and let's just say, I've got a busy three months ahead if I actually get to everything on that list. I'm not complaining--life is good and I'm happy with where I am. It's just . . .
But wait--didn't Oprah say that fifty is the new forty? Can I get an extension? Ten years?
And, at what age do I have to cut my long locks into the "menopause bob"?
and wear "sensible shoes"?
and switch from Zumba to "Sit and Be Fit"?