One of my favorite quotes is by Hunter S. Thompson. Basically saying live life to the fullest. More and more, it echoes my feelings about this life. So many of the messages we receive along the way are around moderation. The safe way. “Save money for retirement”. “Eat healthy food”. “Don’t drink too much”. You know I hate that one!
And what I’m getting at is that at nearly any age, it’s way more fun to push the envelope, take risks, eat the extra doughnut, skip the gym, drink at noon on Saturdays (it’s 5:o’clock somewhere!). But at a certain age, perhaps after we’ve raised kids, responsibly reported to work for years, cared for aging parents, contributed to our 401K; are we really supposed to worry about being overweight? Do we have to forego that great cruise because when we’re 85 we might not be able to live on our savings and social security? I am so over it. I just want to relax and enjoy life. Fun for me includes wining, dining, and traveling (with Richie Coldcuts of course). All of those things are good for the soul, but not so much the waistline or wallet. See what I mean? How old are we when we are first capable of worrying? Four? Five? I know at six I was worried that the glass thermos in my Flintstones lunchbox had broken with my soup inside. (It had.)
So do we really have to ‘worry’ for the rest of our lives? Okay. I’ll worry about my kids, grandkids, husband, siblings, nieces and nephews and my friends. But I just flat out refuse to worry anymore about my weight. Or my liver. And only nominally about my bank account and how much I’ll get from social security. Because — I’ll be so mad if I save responsibly (forgoing exotic travel) and count calories (skipping the birthday cakes) and then get hit by a bus! Meaning — dying young with a thin waist and a big bank account. People may counter with, “well, what if you become a financial burden on your children?”. (Hello? — That’s why I had three of them and paid for their education!). All of this is to say: Moderation ~ shmoderation. Have a ball. Love every day. No regrets. I’m just sayin’ . . .