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]