During the summer my friend Helen got one of those DNA test things. After she gleefully told me what percentage Neanderthal she was (while pretending to drag her knuckles down the street), I decided to mail off my own test tube o’ saliva.
The results revealed that I’m likely to have red hair, dark eyes, pale skin and loads of freckles. Indeed!
Upon reading the following nugget of information, Gareth and Rhiannon cackled almost as loudly as that time I fell down the stairs:
In other news I’m now 40, so I’d best wrap up Operation Foxy By 40. Here’s what I was aiming for, way back in November 2015:
And above all:
I just don’t want to wake up on 1 November 2017 feeling irritated or somewhat disappointed, like after an episode of Outlander without an Adult Scene.
I woke up feeling flippin’ great on 1 November 2017, because I was in Italy! How good are my planning skillz? There’s no way one could feel anything but tip top, waking up in Bologna knowing there were a dozen gelato outlets within walking distance.
A week early I’d had a moment of panic upon I receiving a birthday card that had a 40 on the front. I think there’s been a mix-up. This is some old lady’s card. My mum only turned 40 the other day!?
But the minute it actually happened it felt pretty marvellous. 40 sounded like the start of something, whereas the last dregs of 39 had felt like an ending. A fizzling out. A slight mouldering, even!
So in conclusion: I do feel mighty foxy compared to the olive-in-the-bra moment of two years ago. Where my definition of foxy = quite happy to be me, less hide-y, rather sparkly.
The first 18 months of the Operation were more surface-y changes, with the makeup lessons and exercise and socialising, but the second half of 2017 has been unexpectedly intense. As I mentioned in the Beyond Dietgirl post, I’ve been tackling some very old binge eating issues after hitting a mega low point early summer. What felt like the end of days has morphed into the most positive thing, and life has been shaken up for the better. I’m starting to feel alive and hopeful like I’ve never quite felt before. Maybe not Super Shauny, but definitely more like the “slightly more competent, consistent and cared-for Shauny” I’d wished for.
Soooo… 40, eh? When mere tweezers can no longer keep up with the chin hairs and a sort of combine harvester for the face is required. When in some ways life is very different than you had imagined it would be at this point, yet so much better in others. Thanks indulging me as I indulged in this project in the midst of a crazy world. Let’s see what the 40’s bring!