Book Review: "God Chose ME to Carry THREE" by Lisa Frances Penn and Aaron Madison Penn

Title: God Chose ME To Carry THREE

Authors: Lisa Frances Penn and Aaron Madison Penn

Genre: Non-Fiction, Faith-Based

Where to Buy: Click Here To Purchase NOW!!!!!

Dedication:

I have never done a dedication on a blog post/book review before. Mostly because I wasn't sure if people did that. Then I decided I didn't care what other people do. So, I dedicate this blog post/book review to the following people:

1. To my 12 angels. I will see you again someday.

2. To my beloved, late friend and brother of the author, Todd Christopher Jones. Without Todd, I wouldn't have met Lisa. All things come together for those who love the Lord. The Lord took you home but gave me Lisa. You are still missed my CAPA brother.

3. To the author herself, Lisa Frances Penn. The feat of being able to read your beautiful book finally settled the question long in my mind that I can read about such miracles without being in pain over my own losses. If you didn't write the book, I may have never known. Thank you so much for writing it and sharing this part of your life with me.

Review:

Imagine for a moment that you are a 40 year old woman and you have no children. Imagine you want children badly. Now imagine that you're concerned about having a condition in your reproductive system because your mother had it. Imagine having an ultrasound to check for that condition and you find out that you are not only PREGNANT, but that you are having TRIPLETS. No fertility drugs, SPONTANEOUSLY CONCEIVED TRIPLETS!

Now, imagine you're a man with a wife and your wife believes that she's got a reproductive condition that her mother had. Imagine that your wife is having an ultrasound to check for the condition so she can have it treated, if it can be treated at all. And because your wife is a NURSE, you have no reason to think she's wrong. Now imagine your wife comes home from that appointment and tells you she's pregnant. With TRIPLETS!

You have just received a fraction of a glimpse of what it's like to be Lisa Frances Penn and her husband, Aaron Madison Penn.

"God Chose ME To Carry Three" is the non-fiction story of The Penn's journey through learning about Lisa's spontaneously conceived triplet pregnancy, the duration of the extremely rough pregnancy itself, and what life is like raising identical triplets. 

In the interest of full disclosure, from January 2000 to December 2004, I personally went through fertility treatment and conceived a number of pregnancies. All were at least triplets. All of the pregnancies were lost. So, I have a total of 12 angels waiting for me in Heaven. 

So why in the world would I accept an invitation to read and review THIS book? Well, to see how I would feel reading about The Penns and Lisa's experience in particular. I also said "yes" to this book because when I met Lisa at her brother's funeral (he was a beloved classmate of mine) and subsequently got to know her on Facebook, I wanted to be a part of sharing this wonderful story with the world.

So, how did I feel reading this book? For starters, I was once again assured that God DOES still work miracles today. The day you doubt THAT, then read this book. There's no way one can doubt God and His ability to perform a miracle after reading this book. My own losses never really became an issue while reading this book. I didn't feel badly for ME. Faith restored, mission accomplished.

At certain times I felt badly for Lisa. Even though my pregnancies were all high-risk and Lisa and I have that in common, my experience still was not the same. After my first pregnancy failed, I was on bed rest immediately with all of the other pregnancies as soon as the tests came back positive. Lisa's bed rest experience was nothing like mine. She actually made it to having to be on bed rest in the hospital for months.

What was it like to be taken into the world of Mrs. Penn as she went through this journey, primarily left on her own by all of her doctors and nurses, with only her hard-working husband to support her emotionally? For starters, my head spun reading about it. There was a point closer to the beginning of her hospitalized bed rest where I kept finding myself in disbelief. The nurses who cared for Lisa, upon finding out she was a nurse herself, didn't tell her anything. I kept wondering things like "why didn't she push harder?" or "why not seek out a patient advocate inside the hospital?" And then my thoughts flipped. Maybe it was because I'm a nurse as well. But I began to wonder, "what the heck were these nurses thinking?" or "what was wrong with these nurses?" A woman stuck on bed rest, in a hospital during the winter, who can't even get out of bed to go to the bathroom while pregnant with triplets, has to be going NUTS. The hormones alone would make her brain more scrambled than the eggs on a Denny's Grand Slam Breakfast. Would she be thinking about pushing harder? Probably not. She's thinking about the three babies in her belly, right? 

Who should consider not reading this book? If you are a primary infertile woman who is still going through treatment, this may not be for you. If you've been through a lot of pregnancy loss and you haven't moved forward, may not be for you. Overall, if you're a female who hasn't dealt with your own inability to conceive and/or your losses, then this isn't for you. I felt I was far enough past my own losses to read this book and I was happy to find out I was right.

Now, if you do fit into any of these categories and you think you might enjoy reading a true story of someone else's good fortune, this book is definitely for you. There are those who fit into these categories who feel that reading about others having success in this area whether via spontaneous conception or, by assisted reproductive techniques (ART), makes them feel more positive. They receive a positive outlook and some feel better overall. So if you can read this type of book in order to build your own self-confidence, especially when the trying becomes difficult to handle, I would highly recommend that you read this book. It will emotionally uplift your spirit.

For everybody else, this is one of those non-fiction books that reads like a fiction novel. The story has suspense, it has some scary parts too. It's got joy. And, it's got some pain. It will most certainly get YOU. Once I got started, my picky self only stopped reading because the need to sleep won out. The only thing I wanted to see more of in the book early on was more of Aaron's point of view. However, the further I got, the more I felt that Lisa carried these three miracles and the amount that is Aaron's point of view was actually just right.

"God Chose ME to Carry THREE" is every bit as exciting as any good fiction novel. The story just happens to be true.

Book Review of "My Memories Dance" by D.M. Hulme

CLICK HERE TO BUY THE EBOOK OR PAPERBACK !!!!!

“My Memories Dance” is the debut novel of D.M. Hulme and she hit it out of the park at her first step up to the plate! In the interest of full-disclosure, I was asked to read an ARC (Advanced Reading Copy) of the book, which is a work of Creative Non-Fiction, and I was asked to give an honest review of it. About halfway through the book, I purchased it outright because I knew that I would want to read it again. Also in the interest of full disclosure, the author is also the mother of one of my BFF’s. My fellow NetGalley readers and reviewers think I’m “NUTS!” and “INSANE!” for agreeing to read and review anything written by a friend, a family member, the family of a friend, etc. but if there were any BFF I was going to say “yes” to when asked, this BFF is one I couldn’t say “no” to.

My first point of order is to say “Congratulations!” to D.M. Hulme on her debut book. I’ve written plenty of blogs about myself over the years but could I write a book about myself using the honesty I encountered in “My Memories Dance?” I don’t know if I could. I also have HOARDS of respect for anyone who successfully writes and publishes a book. SO, let’s get to it…..

“My Memories Dance” is about Sarah Walker. Sarah is a young woman who was born and raised in Northeast Philadelphia, from this point on “Northeast Philly” or just “Philly.” Sarah’s journey through over four decades will take you through the highs and the lows of her life but in addition to her story, you get to read it through the eyes of a Philly girl who loved to go to the dances, loved watching American Bandstand, spent summers “down the shore,” and so much more. As a South Philly “girl” myself, the references to Jerry “The Geater With The Heater” Blavat (who wrote the foreword for this book), Wildwood, Woolworth’s, “The El,” and, so much more brought back memories of my own upbringing in Philly. It’s quite the wild ride down memory lane for Sarah and myself.

You will meet Tom MacPherson, the man who eventually becomes Sarah’s husband. You will HATE Tom. And you will NEED to hate Tom. Because you will feel so much conflict about the decisions, and the mistakes Sarah makes over and over again in regard to Tom. I think your first question will be “why the HELL did she ever marry him?” It was certainly mine and I don’t have any doubt that it will be yours. You will find that Sarah does have her reasons. One of the reasons being the actual decade in which they marry and how things were back then. Sarah writes:

"Tom and I would fight a lot. The fights were mostly about his drinking, the staying out all night,    about money and about his parents."

The other reasons I can’t tell you because, well…..spoilers, that’s why!

Alex Bentley. You will LOVE Alex. It won’t be hard. Alex is dreamy. I can tell you that you will know what Alex looks like from his description in the book and he’s definitely DREAMY. Alex’s appearances in the book seem to make him a minor character of sorts. However, Alex is a MAJOR character for the entire book for a myriad of reasons. He’s in Sarah’s mind and heart from the day she meets him until the end of the book. So even when Sarah isn’t interacting directly with Alex, Alex is still present to Sarah.

Sarah’s journey isn’t easy. Sure, life isn’t easy but I have to admire Sarah for her strength, her determination and her perseverance. There isn’t a day in Sarah’s adult life when she isn’t working a job. There is one short time where Sarah doesn’t work but there is a reason for it. Sorry, that’s a spoiler. There isn’t a day where she doesn’t have to take care of a member of her family. Not one. Sarah simply never stops working. And it’s not the work-a-holic type of working, it’s not “career woman” working. When Sarah takes on one of two or three different jobs to make ends meet, she goes to clean house for some women in the neighborhood and Sarah writes:

"These ladies treated me like I was their daughter. They loved me, and all I did for them. It was very rewarding."

This is SURVIVAL working regardless if it’s her job or taking care of a family member or being there for one of her friends.

You will briefly meet Sarah’s daughter Kim as well. Kim? Well, she’s the reason I read the book. Because she asked me to read it. Sarah has this to say after a terribly unpleasant event occurs:

"Kim and I would talk everyday on the phone. I would vent my problems, and she would always talk me down from the ledge."

Gee, I know NOTHING about what this is like at all. LOL!

"She's a wonderful kid, and I would ask myself, how did I get so lucky to have a kid like her!"

And how did I get so lucky to have a friend like her? And I know she’s absolutely going to hate the fact that I included this line in my review. She’s humble that way. At one point, I sent Kim a brief message about the part of the book where her birth occurs. Her reply was, “SPOILER- I'm really not in it that much.” Oh but she is. Because embedded in Sarah’s mind throughout the book after Kim is born, she’s doing everything for her child. She never has to come out and say it; you will simply just know this to be a fact.

Sarah’s life will make you laugh and it will make you cry. D.M. Hulme is exactly the second author of my 45-year-old life to actually make me cry tears while reading a book. I do recommend having some tissue available. If you’re sitting on the beach, get the Jackie O sunglasses out for this one. You will shed tears of sorrow and tears of joy.

I don’t know how much “creative” is embedded in this “Creative Non-Fiction” book so I have to accept it all as real as it is presented. If that’s the case then I can promise that you will ROOT for Sarah like I did. You will HATE Tom like I did. You will LOVE Alex as I did. And you will hear the songs that are the soundtrack of Sarah’s life in your head as you travel on her journey with her through every single page.

Finally, I enjoyed the choice and direction that D.M. Hulme decided to go with the ending of her first book. I think you’ll find that this definitely is one of the “creative” parts of “Creative Non-Fiction.” It’s kind of a surprise ending of a different sort. You’re gonna love what she does with it. I didn’t see it coming but, as I realized what she was doing with the ending, I thought it was soooo perfect.

I’m rating this the same way I’d rate a NetGalley or Goodreads by using the five star system and I’m giving it FIVE STARS. Most debut books don’t get 5 stars from me. But when an author can evoke the emotional responses that I had while reading, whether tears of sorrow, tears of joy, or laughing out loud not caring who hears it, you get 5 stars! It’s really that simple.

Before or after you read the book, visit the website, http://www.mymemoriesdance.com. You’ll find some lovely information there about the book as well as some great links.  Once you've perused the website, watch the fabulous VIDEO as well.



So, while I recommend this book for anyone who likes to read, I call on Philly chicks, those born in the 50’s, 60’s or 70’s, those of you who are the children of those born in these decades, and those of you who know what it means to go “down the shore,” to grab this one right NOW. You will NOT be able to put it down.

READ ABOUT "MY MEMORIES DANCE" IN ROWHOME MAGAZINE!!!!!

THIS JUST IN !!!!!

READ ABOUT "MY MEMORIES DANCE IN NORTHEAST TIMES!!!!!

CLICK HERE!

What A Woman REALLY Loses When She Loses Her Daddy (Updated June 11, 2011)

June 11, 2011 at 6:24 AM

With Father's Day just around the corner, I figured it was time to sit down and re-read through this special piece and update it a bit. Please note that you are reading from 2009. Updated information is indicated.

The original can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=120168433408.

Warning: some material contained is GRAPHIC, shocking and NOT for the faint of heart. But, it is the truth as I know it. It's not in full, this merely touches the surface. Other Notes I have written on FB intertwine with this one to fill in a lot of, but not all, of the history.

Original composition date: Thursday, July 23, 2009 at 6:06 PM:

On June 21, 2009, I logged onto FB like any other Sunday. And then I logged off. So why did I, a total Facebook-A-Holic (just like the rest of you), abandon FB that day? It was FATHER'S DAY.

At no time in my whole 40 years on Earth do I ever recall having an internal, emotional reaction on Father's Day like I did this year. I'm still not even sure why, maybe it was the glut of Father's Day posts, I really don't know. But I did do a hell of a lot of thinking over the course of that day.

Your story is never going to be exactly the same as mine if you've lost your dad. It will never be the same as mine because those of us who have lost our dads lost them to different situations and at different ages. But, that day I wondered how much I may have missed because he wasn't here. Ever wonder what you really missed after he was gone?My father was viciously murdered, shot to death, by his step-brother on February 21, 1973. He would have been 27 years old less than a month from that date. That was also the day before my 4th birthday. I've been told the step-brother was an overly sensitive, milquetoast type of guy. And I've been told that my father had kind of a wise ass sense of humor. I suppose, on that particular evening, those two things just didn't mix well. Left behind were a wife and two young children.

The stories I heard when I was younger was that my father was just out of the Army after serving his country during the Vietnam-Era. I have his military records that confirm it. I don't know how they met but my parents got married right around early 1967. In February of 1969, I came along and 13 months later, my brother was born. I'm told that my dad was a commercial painter and worked all over the city.

So this past Father's Day 2009, I replayed my life and inserted what I thought life would be like if he wasn't taken away, in some cases by identifying what was lost after he was gone. *Cue the flashback-y, dream music*

My biological mother went completely insane. Her grief sent her into a downward spiral that to this day has never stopped spinning. Drugs like booze and cigarettes and even pot were common back then. But she spiraled out of control and drank, smoked pot, popped pills, snorted cocaine and shot up heroin. She became a drunk and a junkie. She's never recovered and it eventually killed her.

I don't believe for a second that my father would have allowed anything more than what was socially acceptable at the time and I highly doubt he would have allowed things like "works" and needles into his home where his young children were present. Had he lived, my biological mother may have never crossed that line.

And then came the violence. My biological mother became a heinous abuser of her children. Inflicting violence on the very offspring that came from the man you loved and grieved for never made any sense to me. Still doesn't. We were both smacked, kicked, punched, stabbed, slapped, burned and beaten mercilessly without warning. I even got shot. The bullet grazed my belly so I was lucky I guess. The "pop" of the gun that wasn't meant for me was more noisy than painful. Had my father lived, discipline would have been no more than maybe a spanking.

I lost a mother.

With my father gone and my biological mother out of control, the strange bed fellows were frequent. My brother and I spent a lot of nights at my grandmom's house. But, it didn't matter where we were. At home, after passing out from her drunken stupor, those strange men entered my bed in the dark of night and did things no child should ever know about at that young age.

While at my grandmom's house, my grandfather and one of my uncles living in the house also sexually assaulted me over and over. Had my father lived, none of these strange men would have come around and if my grandfather and uncle had still done what they did and my father found out? My grandfather would not have lived until the early 1990's and my uncle would likely not be alive today.

I lost my innocence.

I got good grades in school. I went to voice lessons. I auditioned, performed, and my aunt Margie kept me out of the house as much as possible. I was supposedly smart. Smart enough to be sent to Masterman from 5th grade to 9th grade. At the end of 5th grade, we came home from school to a padlocked door. The rent was not paid.....again. My brother and I walked to our grandmom's house. Great. Now what? My stay there was short and I was old enough to stay away from my grandfather and uncle but I was removed from all of that and went to live with my aunt-mother (my biological aunt and adoptive mother).

She did a fine job raising me after detoxing me from the drugs I was given often and my singing talent was already well known. She took me to church on a regular basis. My hair grew back. I got my ears pierced. I got clean clothing, I got fed breakfast, lunch and dinner (my brother and I used to go for days with no food). I got presents for Christmas and my birthday. I was taken to the dentist and the doctor for check-ups. And while I was extremely active and my confidence was a little better, I was extremely shy around boys. My hormones suddenly activated and all of the sudden, there were boys I liked being around. The teasing I endured at Masterman was hell on Earth already and now I had to talk to boys?

I lost the man who would have been the best advisor and I probably would not have been teased (or perhaps not to the same degree) were it not for starting out at Masterman dressed like a dirt bag. Oh, my body was always clean but my biological mother would not buy us new clothing. She'd just pick out junk from a local thrift store. I wouldn't see new clothing until moving in with my aunt mother. And my hair didn't grow back until I was already there for a year.

I lost my dad's lap to sit on to ask about boys and my protection from bullies.

In 9th grade, I was selected to audition for this special high school. A place where I could learn to be a better singer and performer as well as prepare to go to college for music if I wished. In 10th grade, I entered the Philadelphia High School for the Creative and Performing Arts (CAPA). During the summer in between Masterman and CAPA, I grew taller, my body grew around my chest, and I'd developed a few curves. My hair was red, long, and styled; my clothing was in style for the times. Not all the fancy labels but up to date. And I learned how to wear make up.

I was terrified on the first day at CAPA. I sat in the auditorium next to two girls I would come to know as Susan Donnelly and Janice Barclay. They just talked to me. Because of how we were seated they knew I was a singer just like them. And they were as friendly as friendly could be. It was a new building for them too and having seen where the school was housed before, we basically chattered about what the building we were in was like.

I spent the rest of the day finding my locker, finding my classrooms and bopping around with my best friend Lorna who also came to CAPA from Masterman. It was wildly different. Punk hair, blue hair, spiked hair, leather jackets, chains, ripped jeans, dance tights, guys who wore makeup, and every other possible type of dress under the sun was all under one roof. I got to sing that day. In three periods of classes too.

My father never heard me sing, not once, not ever.

I had crushes on boys. One boy in particular too. For years, right up until today, I would be his friend. Update: we are still friends today. Senior year came. I'd made a name for myself and had a decent rep. I'd experience performing in places I would have never imagined. My confidence was off the charts. I was never teased and I had no enemies (none that I know of anyway). And then what should have been one of the biggest rites of passage for me came along: my Senior PROM.

I knew exactly who I wanted to go with. I think EVERYBODY knew who I wanted to go with. Well, he never asked me and even with all of the confidence in the world I still couldn't bring myself to ask HIM. I never went to my prom, the one I wanted to go with asked another girl...same name, different spelling...and I spent the night of my prom with my best friend Lorna. Surely if my father had lived, I would have had the prettiest purple dress, probably a limo to take me there, my hair all done up pretty and ready to dance the night away with my chosen date.

But, I'd lost my dating advisor. There was no dress, no pretty hair, no limo, and no date. So, I also lost my rite of passage.

My father would not see me graduate from high school ranked high in my class, the winner of two Music scholarships, the Outstanding Vocalist of the Year Award, and a one year ride to study Opera at UCLA. 

I went on to college at Penn State. I did well there. I was engaged to be married, we split up, I dated, I partied (never touched an illegal drug), I sang, I studied, I worked. I was the FIRST person in my family to graduate from college. My father would not see me graduate college either. Had he lived, instead of a degree in Administration of Justice and Music from Penn State, I'd probably have just one degree in Music Performance, Voice concentration, from UCLA, which was the much better school.

Update: as far as I know, I am STILL the first person in my family to graduate from college. None of my cousins on my father's side of the family graduated earlier than 1992 and I don't know if my aunts and/or uncle attended or graduated from college.

The rest is harder to guess. I'd become an independent young woman with a brain and a mind of her own. Would I have met the idiot who would become my first husband? I don't even enjoy giving him the title of "husband" even though it's preceded by "EX-."

Had my father lived, I probably would have known what the red flags were sooner than later.

I do still believe I would have met Kevin. My father would be 5 years older than him. But I do believe my father would have approved of him with a huge gold star and a big, red bow! I believe he would have walked me down the aisle, my biological mother, sober and proud, already seated in the pew to my left. My father would have loved Kevin's parents (R.I.P.), especially Kevin's father.

Update: I still believe that my biological mother would have been a sober woman had my father lived. Today, she is still a drunk and a junkie. She did 5 years in Muncy for Manslaughter, was paroled, served 5 years of clean and sober probation and the day after it was up, she was right back in it.

Had my father lived, I might be famous. He might have had grandchildren. With no insane widow to kick the shit out of me, my reproductive system might have developed correctly and Kevin and I might not have had any problems with conceiving and I probably wouldn't have had any problems carrying those babies to term.

My father was a Catholic-Christian man who served his country, lived a clean life, worked hard, got married, had children and was only getting started on the rest of his life and it was flushed out in a fraction of a fraction of a second over what amounted to nothing but a silly joke spoken in front of the wrong, young and stupid idiot who probably never thought of anybody but himself. Update: as far as I know, this is still correct information. I'm still working to learn the full story. I could get a copy of the police report and read it. But, that man is named and I do NOT want to know his name.

I have never visited my father's grave. I want to but there is no head stone there and I can't find the only living relative I know he has: his sister (and my aunt) Christine. She had to bury him and I cannot find her to negotiate placing a proper marker on the site where he was laid to rest. I am still searching for her.

Update: Aunt Tina (Christine) has been found and is wonderful. She has two beautiful children (my cousins), Jason and Lucille. 

There is also my father's only brother, Vincent. He has three beautiful daughters, Brittany, Michelle and Nicole. 

I have an Aunt Roxane (Brittany's mom) who has been a God appointed angel. 

My Aunt Vicky passed away a while ago and there is an Aunt Patsy as well.

My paternal grandmother for who I am named, Theresa Casper, passed away in a fire before I was ever born. I've also learned I'm 1/4th Polish.

My paternal grandfather, John Casper, passed away from a heart attack at 57 years old. And, supposedly I'm 1/4th Lithuanian.

I'm looking forward to meeting ALL of them real soon.

If YOUR father is still alive, even with all of his faults or problems and issues, honor him. Cherish him. Find something positive about him to embrace.

So, what does a woman REALLY lose when she loses her Daddy? She loses her best admirer, her biggest crush that becomes second only to the man she marries. She loses her protector, her provider, and her biggest fan.

And, she loses a piece of her own soul. That piece of her soul will only be replaced when she goes to meet him someday and he's there to place it back in the hole left in her heart.

Wisdom and Lessons of Approaching the Big "4-0"

February 17, 2009 at 9:27pm

As I get closer to my 40th birthday, it occurred to me that there were two ways for me to enter this new decade of life: glide in nice and smooth-like or go in kicking and screaming.

Well, my claws are out and I’m going in kicking and screaming. And if I hear another cliché, I may have to claw out eyeballs.

I have lived more than one lifetime in these last 39 years and I don’t know if it gets any better solely because I’m entering my 4th decade of life. I guess that’s a wait and see situation.

One thing I have noticed now that I am getting closer to this milestone is in regard to what I think about what others think of me. Has the following happened to anybody else?

For more years than I can recall, I was always quite vocal about what others thought of me. I would proudly exclaim that I didn’t give a shit what somebody thought of me and I would also make it well known that I didn’t care if there was someone who didn’t particularly like me.

If this has happened to you, then you know that absolutely I DID care and I cared A LOT. I could probably guess which of my closest of friends were not fooled by those exclamations but if this is a surprise to any of them, then I’m a much better actress than I ever thought I was.

And then, something began to change. I didn’t hit on it until about a week ago even though it’s been brewing for the last year. Maybe it’s age or maturity or maybe it’s a newfound confidence that comes with this age change. Because now? I DON’T CARE! I REALLY DON’T CARE WHAT PEOPLE THINK ABOUT ME! I really don’t. I am finally LIBERATED! I can rattle off, by name, those real friends and family that truly do care about me, love me, like me and give a damn about what happens to me. And the rest can kiss my ass. ☺

This is who I am. This is what you get. This is how I’m wired and only those who have real love for me will be able to accept it. I do like to think there are more good things about me than not so good, but I’m a weirdly wrapped package with a funky kind of bow. But, God made me this way and God don’t make no junk!

I’ve learned that my past will always have an effect on my present and future. I’ve been to reconcile the horrible experiences so that I can speak of them without feeling pain but the simple fact is that because of these experiences, there will always be something from the past that will play a part in future decisions, future endeavors, and pretty much everything that comes down the pike for me.

Speaking of my horrible past, get over it, period. As I move into this new decade, this rite of passage has brought to light that if you are a part of my current life, you get the whole package, including the past. It’s made me into what I am today. I can’t make it go away, I can’t change it, and for anyone to those who told me to forget about it (yes, people have actually seen that as a viable solution for dealing with it all), frankly, you were a moron.

I am now realizing that I actually know who I am today. I’m more comfortable in my own skin, I don’t care (really, I don’t) if my ass looks too big in those pants, and I may be a late bloomer, but I’m now more free than ever to pursue what it is I want to do and to leave behind what I don’t want to do. I’m no longer willing to cave to the strong suggestions of others if I am convinced something is not right for me. “No” means “NO.” Please don’t take it personal.

Having said all that, I know who my real friends are. I have reevaluated all of my closest friends and have decided how much of a role they will play in my life in the future. Some will be faded away because I’m just not that into you anymore. The rest will go on and continue to grow with me, change with me, and celebrate life with me.

I hope life really does begin at 40.

Feel free to discuss.