Forever young ...

"Fear not when, fear not why; fear not much while we're alive. Life is for living, not living uptight; see ya somewhere up in the sky."
-- Jay-Z, "Forever Young"

Twenty-eight: A fate worse than death.

Just kidding.

In actuality, when I was a kid (and this is one of those mortifying things I don't really want to own up to, but is intergal to the plot and/or my point, so no judgement, kthanxbai) my friends and I used to act out this TV show I loved coughstarringScottBaiocough and the main character, whom I always got to play, was 28. I proclaimed that as being old, that I couldn't possibly imagine being that old. After all, that was like, you know, a grown-up.

Well, no thanks to my gallbladder, I made it to 28 -- my golden birthday -- in one piece.

And I'd like to publicly state for the record that 9-year-old me had no idea what the hell she was talking about. Yes, 28 means it's been 10 years since I graduated from high school, 10 years since I started college, six years since I started at The Times, almost two since I left ... but it also brings a sense of completion.

I remember writing my birthday post two years ago and so desperately trying to find a way to be at peace with myself in the wake of my fertility woes. What I lacked at 26, I now have at 28. (Ironically, what I had at 26 -- a job -- I now lack at 28.) I feel a inner peace and happiness about my life. I have a wonderful husband, a beautiful son, a nice home, the ability to take great vacations and buy gorgeous clothes and eat amazing food ... Life is good.

Was my life good two years ago? In the larger scheme of things, yes. I had several of those things already. But hindsight is always 20-20, and life seemed pretty bad when I wasn't able to get -- or stay -- pregnant. It's amazing how one small person can shape a life so much without even knowing it, long before they are here.

Which brings me to my goal for this year. I was (as always) an epic failure at my New Year's resolution, but I don't see the harm in setting a goal for my own calendar year. Seeing Collin growing up is the most amazing, profound thing, and I want to be healthy and able to keep up with him, because man, can that kid move -- and he's only 15 months old.

I had started the South Beach Diet earlier in August with the hopes of fitting back into my wedding dress for a Trash the Dress photo shoot in mid-September. The jury is still out on whether that's going to happen, but I am losing weight -- and this time, I WILL keep it off, even if I have to sacrifice my pad thai and pasta da vinci to do it.

Sacrifice being the operative word. I will be the first to say that it's excrutiating to go to margarita night with your friends and eat tacos with no shells or rice and a bottle of water while they're all hitting the chips and booze. And it's really tempting to snack on a little fruit or some crackers when they're already in the house for Collin.

Bottom line: When you're a carbaholic, this is a special place in hell where the floors are made of sugar-free Jello.

But I must perservere. I may not get back into my wedding dress by Sept. 18, but I WILL get back into it by the end of the year. And I WILL surpass that by the time we go to Maui in March. So I will eat my pea pods and brown rice and stop mourning orange juice and know it's for the greater good.

This isn't my first attempt at South Beach -- I lost 41 pounds for my wedding in 2006. I looked great, and then, two months later, I started trying to get pregnant. When that didn't work, I had some pie. A lot of pie. Some pasta, a slice of cheesecake, a little nog ... you get the picture. It's not that I lack willpower; I just didn't have the motivation to make it OK to eat those foods. Having a desk job didn't help matters, and neither did the hours I worked. No one wants to excercise at 2 a.m.

Now, I'm at home all day with an active toddler, and there is no reason why I can't get some exercise. So I have taken up a routine of either walking to my mom's house and back with the stroller (about two miles) or doing between a half-hour and 40 minutes on the Wii Fit, with the goal of getting up to an hour. I have found that my balance is improving, I am getting more flexible -- and I really like yoga. Go figure. Tranquil isn't usually a word that describes me.

And most importantly, I feel better about myself. When I was younger, I would look at celebrities like Teri Hatcher and bemoan my inability to be that thin and look that good. Granted, I'd still kill to look like she does when I'm 45, but I also have a more realistic outlook now. I'm not going to be a size two, but hey, an eight doesn't sound so bad. And if I miss a night on the Wii Fit, I am not going to agonize over it.

Like the song lyrics above say, I want to live -- and not uptight. That's always a challenge for a Type A person such as myself, but I am going to try. Being young is a state of mind, and I have every intention of being forever young.

And maybe, you know, having a little piece of pie here and there.