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“Youth is the gift of nature, but age is a work of art” ~ Stanislaw Jerzy Lec

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I don’t want to brag, but I am turning 57.

Some of you will read that sentence and scoff. Some of you will read it and laugh. Some will say I’m expired. Some will wonder why I’m admitting it. Some will believe I should be silent and invisible. And the wise ones will be cheering because they understand the gift that it is.

I am 57 and I’m so many incredible things, but expired and invisible I am not.

I’m like warm apple pie on a cold winter’s night. Sweet, tasty, and just a little tempting. I’m like the depths of the ocean, full of mystery, surprises, and magic. I’m like a dusty old encyclopedia, long forgotten on the bookshelf. But when you turn the pages, you see the wisdom, knowledge, and teachings, waiting to be shared.

I’m like a wild horse, a little untamed, but full of spirit. I’m like fine china, delicate and should be handled with care. I’m also like a cactus and will prick you, if you touch me the wrong way. I am like an abstract painting; you will look at me for the longest time but still be uncertain what’s drawing you in. I am like those old pair of shoes, a little worn but your go-tos because they are so comfortable. I am like that trip to Italy you once had, full of history, good wine, and unforgettable. I am complex. An enigma. A contradiction. An untethered soul.

Age is a funny thing when you’ve done your inner work. It shows you who you are. You finally become comfortable in your skin. You become more concerned about how you feel about yourself and less concerned about what others think about you. You not only see your gifts, you’re brave enough to express them. You see the beauty in the ordinary. You see the ordinary in the beauty. You understand an abyss of pain, loss, and grief, which has shaped the person you have become. You know the veracity of love. You appreciate your body and the way it changes and feel sexy. You intricately know pleasure, how to give it and how to receive it. You trust your intuition because you feel the energy more than listening to the words. There’s a quiet confidence and a soft knowing. You finally stand in your power.

The journey we take can lead us in many different directions. The path I chose was certainly not the easiest one. Indeed, I lost my compass on more than one occasion. I tripped and fell, more times than I can count. I stumbled around in the dark scared and alone, not knowing if I’d ever see light again. I lost sight of where I was going and in doing so, I completely lost myself. Yes, my journey was at times terrifying and arduous.

But at 57, I’m here. I have arrived.

I have knocked on many doors along the way to get here. There was the door of love, which showed me a truly deep connection and taught me how to explore pleasure. There was the door of motherhood, which brought me my two greatest gifts. There was the door of loss and pain, which revealed grief and despair. There was the door of self-worth, which reminded me I’m important. There was the door of trust, which taught me to believe in myself. There were the locked doors, showing me that not everything I thought I wanted was meant for me. And there was the door that once opened set me free from the cage I was shackled too.

Fascinating? Absolutely. I’m unafraid to speak my truth. I’m fearless in my pursuit of living life on my terms. I don’t need external validation. I’m curious. About life. Myself. Others. I am fascinating because I believe that I am.

Fortunate? Hell yes. I walk the path I choose to walk, regardless of what that looks like to others. I have a beautiful and loving relationship with my kids. I’ve been blessed with a grandchild whom I adore. I am connected to a circle of wonderful friends. I love the work I do and have so much purpose and passion in my life.

Fabulously f*cking naked? Metaphorically so. Every time I write, I am a little naked. Every time I vulnerably share, I am a little naked. Every time I wear my heart on my sleeve, I am a little naked. Every time I let people see small pieces of me, I am a little naked. There’s something bewitching about stripping down and showing a little of your naked soul. Maybe it’s in the words expressed, or perhaps the energy you exude. Whatever it is, I’m comfortable being fabulously f*cking naked.

I know it’s an age, especially for women, that can be difficult. Perimenopause and menopause can be tough. There are so many changes. It can also be damn freeing. Liberating. Exhilarating. And so bloody hot. Mainly because of those hot flushes, but nonetheless, there’s a whole lot of heat seeping through these veins. And I admit that being fabulously f*cking naked can be helpful…along with a fan and a serving of ice cream.

So here I am, a week out from my 57th birthday feeling pretty good. And hot. Empowered and wildly free to follow my soul. Did I mention hot, because I could seriously melt ice right now. Excited for the next chapter, with newfound growth. Loving who I am, where I am going and who I am becoming. Because I am always becoming. Becoming the very best version of me, doesn’t stop with age. Becoming more purposeful and passionate. Becoming the woman I am destined to be. And becoming hotter because you can never be hot enough…apparently.

Fifty-seven, Fascinating, Fortunate, and Fabulously F*cking Naked because I can. Because why not? Because I’m worth it.

“The making of a woman who has continued to grow is a beautiful thing to behold.” ~ Naomi Wolf

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