Tequila, LOTS of tequila. Beer, wine, and the occasional rum and coconut water
(seriously . . . Rehydration plus dehydration = pure genius)
Sure, booze helps. But who you drink with is key, as well as a few other ingredients.
Step ONE: Surround yourself with the right type of women.
We really ARE who we hang out with, as if we needed mom to be right about one more thing, right?
This one is really important. We, as women, really are affected by the people we put in our “crew” or “tribe”. If we surround ourselves with bitches that compare themselves to us, we surround ourselves with scarcity, and scarcity is a cancer. Women who support us, encourage us, and respect us, build our fabulous.
I’ve always said, if you are comparing yourself to me, you’ve already lost. The same applies if I compare myself to you.
Basically, I surround myself to the women that I most want to be like, as if everything they are will rub off on me. My bitches? They are me. I celebrate their success as if it is my own. We fucking rock.
You can spot the ones who are nasty (or, not “ready for friendship”) with no problem. They’re the ones who compare themselves to everyone, especially you. Instead of “I love your….” it’s “If I had your….”. It’s not “you” or “I” with a secure friend, it is “we”.
We give healthy compliments to each other too. Like, “YOU ARE A FUCKING SUPERHERO”, not like, “I hate you, because you’re skinny”... “You look so happy” yes. “Why do you have to be so beautiful” no.
Run, if they’re competing.
Step TWO: Celebrate EVERYTHING.
We are only here so long, and frankly 400 years isn’t enough time for me, (I’m still looking for my vampire). So while I am here, I plan to make a big deal over everything.
EVERY. GOD. DAMNED. THING.
My birth is basically a national holiday in my mind. Every calendar holiday, yeehaw. Every random good fortune, pop the cork. Every other person’s random good fortune, CHEERS. If I'm invited, I'm making it matter.
One day these things will be over.
One day I will take my last breath. And you can bet your ass that no one left here to celebrate my life will be left without a million stories, crazy ass things, stupid things, and hilariousness to speak as they hold up the cocktails I provided.
My funeral will be much like a wedding, without the boring vows part. Chicken dance and all.
“Remember the time Lizzy disappeared under the car?” yeah, a lot of that.
Of course, there will be swag bags, condoms included, mourning makes people horny. I don’t need a bunch of Lizzys running around.
But, until then, I will be celebrating and making these stories happen.
Step THREE: Eat Butter . . . Often.
Actually, the most fabulous forty year old’s that I know love food. They love eating it, making it, and love enjoying it with friends. I mean, you have to eat or you will die, why not enjoy it?
They enjoy everything that they do. Sleeping, eating, and going to the bathroom. And only ONE of those is appreciated alone.
I’ll really never understand not eating what you love, or not doing anything that you love, really. Sure, you can't eat a box of bagel bites for breakfast and still make it up the stairs, well, unless you're five, but have a box every now and again if that is what you take pleasure in.
Come on, stop taking life and yourself that seriously, take care, don't be an asshole to your body, but get together with the people that you love and break bread…. and then put butter on it.
Can we stop acting like denying ourselves of everything we love is living? Please?
Step FOUR: Laugh
Some of the happiest women I know find the funny in the mundane. If you can find the humor in wiping the ass of another human being, you can find funny anywhere.
Laughter is serious in my circles. Dead serious.
I’ve often said the key to happiness is finding the funny at the funeral AND at the wedding. Finding joy in the sad times, the ugly times, the “I just shit my pants times” ; the “times of growth”, that’s the key to happiness.
I’d rather be known as “that crazy bitch who laughs at the funeral”, than the one who doesn’t find it weird and hilarious to be hangin' around a box filled with a dead person.
Step FIVE: Value YOUR Time
Stop talking about your fucking age like it’s just happening to you. Unless you’re on suicide watch, we all have a choice to be here. Either enjoy this hotel or check the fuck out.
In fact, the fabulous forty year old’s are not victimized by this number, they worship this number. They don’t wish for times passed or times to come, they enjoy today. They make the most out of both their inside and outside beauty, and always try to be better at what they are doing. They know the value of their time, they honor it by being grateful for it, and they bask in it like a clownfish on ecstasy.
They give their time like it is the only valuable thing that they’ve got, because guess what? It is all we’ve got.
They make the most of TIME.
I have been lucky enough to collect these fabulous forty year old’s, and many other “fabulously aged people”, and it all comes down to self love, gratitude, true friendship, the value of time, and the sheer will to say and take what they want.
Here is to enjoying THIS LIFE, RIGHT NOW.
One last word…. Don’t put down your body, not to yourself, not to your people, it does absolutely no good for anyone. You know the ole saying “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all”? If you can’t appreciate that your body has gotten you to this point, fine, you have work to do, but fake it until you make it.