That title is not a sweeping statement for all people in their forties. This is specifically written about me. Navel-gazing, me-me-me in full effect. Largely in part because I have been in a funk and I read this little wisp of wonder over at Cup of Jo and it struck me as incredibly wise. Here are the words: It doesn’t make sense to call ourselves ugly, because we don’t really see ourselves. We don’t watch ourselves sleeping in bed, curled up and silent with chests rising and falling with our own rhythm. We don’t see ourselves reading a book, eyes fluttering and glowing. You don’t see yourself looking at someone with love and care inside your heart. There’s no mirror in your way when…

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