Breathing towards forty

It is so strange to take deep breaths. I can tell you I always thought I was breathing. Now, I realize I have spent much of my life holding my breath. I have no idea why, but I have. Walking around, taking deep belly breaths...what a strange sensation.
So I am going to be Forty next week. I freely admit that I am in complete denial about it. I also freely admit that one of the reasons it is hitting me so hard is having this illness. I have felt like this illness has stolen my youth to some degree. I do feel like it has kept me from becoming the person I thought I would be. However, if I examine my life, obviously, I am so lucky to have what I do have-I was able to complete my law degree, work as a lawyer, travel the world, married an amazingly supportive and loving man, have an exceptionally bright (if I do say so myself-completely unbiased) child, have a beautiful house and extremely supportive and understanding friends. No, I did not become TombRaider, no, I did not scale Mount Everest, no, I didn't become a world wide respected artist. C'est la vie. The one thing I am having trouble accepting is that I did not become Sheryl Crow.
Let me explain. A few years ago, I was lucky to be the "plus one" to Sheryl Crow's 40th birthday party. It was an incredible party-she had a whole concert where she played songs with amazing guests and then she had a beautiful party at a restaurant. This was shortly after she had started surfing and was in the most perfect shape and simply gorgeous. She was dressed simply and yet looked stunning.
I still had a few years before I turned forty, so I resolved I would figure out a way to also be a picture of perfect health and joie de vivre.
Instead, as I creep up towards that day, I am wearing a cervical collar to sleep and am currently only able to work out 20 minutes a day. I have to use a fanny pack and wear proper, sensible shoes. I keep buying those ridiculous high heels, though. I just think they are so hysterically gorgeous. Yes, I am sure the people who created them are men who have no idea what it feels like to walk on twenty five inch heels with 100 lbs per square inch on each toe. I still can't resist them.
Maybe if I just keep breathing deeply these last few days of 39, I'll turn into Sheryl Crow and only wear heels from now on.