While having cocktails with a friend, she lamented that at midlife she was all out of f@cks. To quote my forty-five-year-old stunningly eloquent companion, she said, “Gaze upon my field of f@cks, and notice there are none.”
I nodded along in agreement. When I hit forty, I had come to a similar resolution.
Along with my thickening waistline, apathy towards the concerns of others became a blanket insulating me from the chronic mental fatigue of feeling like I wasn’t good enough. My life experience thus far showed me that I’d be more fulfilled and less anxious if I stopped caring about meeting others’ expectations or fitting into the round holes lurking on social media of what’s in and what’s not.