Dear Diary - No more pity party

 

Dear Diary,

Well, after chatting to 2 good friends over devilled eggs, stuff mushrooms, slow-cooked ribs, mashed potato, corn, coleslaw, Ben and Jerrys and 3 bottles of wine, the pity party is over.

I am 40.  

I am jobless.

I am fat.

The first thing I can't change.  The second thing I am changing.  The third thing needs a plan.

So here's my plan, and it's called 1441.

There's a saying in the UK, "1661."  It's to describe those skinny, groomed, well-preserved women with incredible hair. They look 16 from the back, and 61 from the front.

Well, I am going to be size 14 (American) by the time I am 41.

Oh, and as for not being able to change being 40 - I do have one small comfort.

I don't look it.

Onwards and upwards, dear Diary!

[insert fanfare here]