I've always liked it on top. Top of the Peaks overlooking Georgian Bay. Top of the class, before life ran amok. Top of the cake – the corner bit where all the icing roses grow. And the top of the heap, metaphorically.
Suffice it to say, this morning I gleefully kicked the ass and closed the door on a year spent breathlessly searching for pennies on the bottom of a filthy community swimming pool.
Lesson have been learned. Botox injections are expensive, and only inhibit your ability to express sadness. Instead, I went for a complete inner overhaul, tossing out the things that were dragging me down below the surface. Things like "I can't", and Cheesies washed down with just about anything I could get my hands on. I fired a few clients, and let go of the guilt felt when I said, "No. No I can't".
I learned that putting yourself out there doesn't mean selling your soul.
I learned that money may not buy happiness, but not having any sucks.
I learned that waving a CAA card at a hotel check-in works wonders.
I learned that true friends don't try and change you, they just accept you for who you aren't.
I learned that having a birthday at this stage in the game, beats the fuck out of not having one.
This very weekend, I learned that the old bag who stole my parking spot at the grocery store may have won the battle, but a well-penned note placed on her windshield won the war. So tap your boney, frosted peach-polished finger on the K-car window all you want, you geriatric old bitch. No one can out-miserable me.
"Look," the birthday girl said, resurfacing and taking in a deep breath of sweet air, "a shiny new one!".
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