On Monday, I’m going to be 43, which, according to the Google:

The number 43 stands for a combination of discipline and creativity, patience and achievement, commitment and joy. It motivates you to set new goals for your life with a renewed enthusiasm and optimism

Um…I’m not sure if any of that is going to happen, but here are 43 random thoughts for you anyway:

1.     I have an alter ego named Worse Case Scenario Wilma. By even writing this, I’m freaking out about whether or not I’ll actually make it to 43. Also, if you’re ever five minutes late for dinner with me, I’m frantically texting you – if you’re ever 15 minutes late, I’m calling you – if we go past a half hour – I’m calling the local hospitals. Which brings me to fact number 2:

2.     I will never, ever answer the phone if you call. And I will never call you back.

3.     The best thing about smart phones is that I don’t have to use them as an actual phone. They are texting devices.  

4.     The next best thing about smart phones is that I don’t even need to listen to voicemails. I just look at Siri’s drunk translation and hope to get the gist.

5.     I used to try to apologize for never answering calls – now I just own it.

6.     The beauty of aging is that I spend more time owning who I am and less time apologizing for who I am.

7.     But….I do still apologize for who I am. I’m a work in progress. But aren’t we all?

8.     If I absolutely have to make a phone call, I don’t, and then spend all of the free time in my head obsessing about it.

9.     I don’t have any free time in my head because I’m already obsessing about all of the things that I’m not doing and hoping that odd pain in my side goes away because instead of calling a doctor, I’m just hoping I don’t die.

10.  I don’t like any music made after 1989.

11.  Procrastination both gives me immediate relief and long-term anxiety.

12.  If I was responsible for buying my own toilet paper, I’d probably just use leaves because that’s the kind of adult I am.

13.  But I’d always have coffee. Because coffee.

14.  If I could go back in time and meet only one person, it would be Ghandi. Also Lou Gehrig.

15.  If I were marooned on an island and could only have music from three people it would be Frank Sinatra, Chet Baker, and then toss up between my Dad and James Taylor

16.  My favorite Muppets are Statler and Waldorf – the two wise guys in the balcony. But I’m partial to the Swedish Chef.

17.  My version of cooking is buying pre-made meals from Whole Foods. Or eating those flavored packets of tuna that come with a spoon.

18.  Really it’s mostly that. The tuna.

19.  Every time Sheila tries to slow dance with me, I end up breaking out into the White Man’s Overbite mixed with the Church Lady mixed with the Grocery Cart move. While she stands at me, staring. Yes, I did this at our wedding.

20.  If you play Barry Manilow’s “Can’t Smile Without You” I have to sing. It’s a reflex. It can’t not happen.

21.  The inside of my mind could be on an episode of “Extreme Hoarders.” I hoard thoughts. Most of them useless, unproductive ones similar to those in one through five.

22.  Give me a year though, any year, and I can probably tell you who won the World Series. Which is why I’m never sure where I left my keys.

23.  I have these, like, three pairs of underwear that I need to throw away because they give me wedgies, but I never remember to throw them away and then I find myself putting them on only to get a few hours into my day and think ugh, these are the wedgie underwear. When will I learn?

24.  I also have a cat.

25.  Going back to number 23, I buy new underwear less often than I buy a new car. I don’t know why. It just is.

26.  I don’t really like Thanksgiving food.

27.  I was named after a character named Kimberly on the soap opera “As the World Turns”

28.  Don’t ever call me Kimberly.

29.  Ever

30.  Every time I commit to making this list, I wish I was younger.

31.  I was in a sorority in college. Phi Sigma Sigma. Yes I can still do the cheers.

32.  I played the drums from fourth grade through my freshman year of high school.

33.  I also have bras that don’t fit right and I neglect to throw them away, only to find myself in a similar situation as number 23. Sometimes it’s both my underwear AND my bra. Those are rough days.

34.  I drink bad beer.

35.  No, like really bad beer. Like Miller High Life, which is most certainly NOT the champagne of beers. Unless champagne tastes like urine. Which I don’t think it does…

36.  I know how to make a potato gun.

37.  It requires a lot of Aqua Net Hairspray.

38.  I once used Aqua Net in my hair. It was like wearing a helmet.

39.  Every time I hear an accent, I have to repeat it.

40.  If you’re wondering, this tendency to pick up other people’s behaviors is called the Chameleon Effect.

41.  According to the Google, people who pick up accents easier are nicer people.

42.  I must be really nice, but I’m nervous to spend more than five minutes South of the Mason Dixie Line.

43.  If you’re wondering, and you’re not, the New York Yankees won the world series in 1943.

You’re welcome.

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**Looking for some help with your nutrition? Comment below or send me an email at kim@kimlloydfitness.com - I’m getting ready to open up a few spots in my coaching program in December.

I stood at the podium at center stage and surveyed the auditorium. 

The balcony was empty, as were most of the first floor seats, save for my 20 or so eighth grade classmates. 

“O.Henry,” I began. “Who was he?”

I paused after the first sentence and gripped the side of the podium, startled by the sound of my voice in the microphone. As someone who rarely spoke above a whisper, I was stunned that the volume of my voice was seemingly booming, echoing off of the hard wooden seats and cracking plaster walls. I shook less and less with each line I delivered before returning to my seat, trembling as the adrenaline left my body. 

At the end of the class, Mrs. Howard tapped at my Jansport book bag as I walked out of the auditorium. 

“You have a knack for public speaking,” she said and I nodded shyly before walking to my next class. 

I think we were both surprised by the clarity and strength with which I had spoken, since I was loathe to speak up in class or make eye contact when speaking to a teacher. That speech was the first time I realized that I really had a voice. And I didn’t know quite what to make of it. 

This is how you perform a Bonnie Raitt squat….

Talking was always a problem for me as a student. My dad would come home from each parent/teacher conference and give me the same lecture. “They say that you are a good student but that you need to speak up,” he would say. “You need to raise your hand more. And you mumble too much. You need to E-NUN-CI-ATE.” 

For added emphasis, he would over-enunciate the word enunciate, just to be sure I got the message. I did get the message, I just didn’t care to speak up in class. I didn’t want to raise my hand, I certainly didn’t want to draw attention to myself, and the last thing I wanted to do was use my voice for, well, talking.   

This story came to mind last week when, for the 10th time of the day, someone misheard my directions for an exercise. 

“What is a Bonnie Raitt squat?” Suzanne asked one day in our team training class. 

“Um…I don’t know, but I asked you to do a body weight squat…” I replied. 

We now do Bonnie Raitt squats in class regularly. 

“What is a lame-ass squat?” Another asked on a different day. 

“Well, actually a landmine squat,” I said, as I shook my head, thinking of my dad’s yearly lectures. 

Finding my voice has been a life-long process and certainly not one that’s come easy. It took a number of seasons coaching high school and college kids before I realized that I needed to treat every practice and game as though I was on stage. That I needed to flip a switch and turn my voice and my presence “on” so that I could command the presence that a coach needed to effectively coach.

I don’t write about this today for any other reason than to acknowledge that finding your voice can be really difficult. Whether it’s finding the voice to advocate for yourself with a doctor, the voice to stand up to your boss, the voice to speak up for your children or your family, it can be really difficult to put yourself on stage and find the ability to speak up. It can be startling to hear your own voice ringing out in anger, in excitement, or in delight. 

Often when I write on this site, I do so to give voice to something that someone else might be thinking or struggling with. About body image, about mental health struggles, about life.

But how much better do we feel when we have some solidarity - some understanding that others have been where we have been - have felt what we have felt. So we try, I try, to give voice to struggles and to pains and to some joys as well.

You have a voice.

Remember that you have a voice. 

And as much as possible, surround yourself with people who support you and give you the courage to use that voice.