Wait . . . I am a Number

In fact, I'm some pretty good numbers.

• 68 - Height, in inches. That's a long, tall drink of Wife-ness.
• 40 - My age, which, although a bit rocky these last few days (weeks? months?) is pretty cool in a lot of ways, most of which involve being young enough to enjoy things (friends, traveling, food, drink, rock and roll, skillets . . . you name it) and being old enough and wise enough to appreciate it without all the other problems of youth (acne, poverty, stupidity)
• 36B - Geez, MHG - they were right there in your face . . . you ought to know.
• 16.5 - Number of years of awesome experience I have to sell to some willing buyer who can recognize my financial accounting talents.
• 9 - My shoe size - which looks fabulous with a pair of 4 1/2 inch Jimmy Choo stilettos, let me tell you.
• 9 - Number of places I've lived in my life (not a single repeating state) - see how flexible and mobile I am?
• 6 - When I'm being good about what I eat, that's my dress size. Work, poor diet, and a few other things are trying to push that upwards. But I'll be back there.
• 4++ - Size of my immediate family, which includes a few extraneous au pairs. I am fortunate to have them.
• 2 - Number of degrees I have.
• 2 - Number of children that call me "Mom." They can't ever downsize you from that role or take that title away.
• 1 - Number of abdominal scars I have to have earned me the previous title.
• 1 - Number of patient, understanding husbands I have that put up with my last few years of crap, including this last zinger, and still call me friend.
• 0 - Number of fantastic friends, virtual or otherwise, that I'd give up in times like these.

Don't get me wrong - being part of a "capacity reduction" still sucks. The numbers just look better than they did yesterday.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife