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I made a goal about a year ago to get my weight down to 140 pounds by the time I was 40. Thankfully, we don't own a scale here so when I turned 40 yesterday, I was blissfully unaware whether I had reached my goal or not. Someone once told me how happy they were after fourty because they stopped caring about their weight and appearance.  I must say, it has been nice not knowing my weight and thus, caring less. A present to myself.

The best present, however, came in the form of family. 

I have never celebrated a birthday with my extended family before so to be able to celebrate my 40th in Denmark with cousins and aunts and uncles was the best present I could ask for. 

Also, the cake my cousin Lars brought for me was pretty cool; a "kagemand" 

(literal translation = cake man).

My mother made similar ones for many of our birthdays growing up, using bread dough in the shape of a girl for me and a boy for my brothers, with brown sugar, icing and candy decorations. Something I had not heard of yet until my 40th though, is the tradition of screaming as the cake replica of yourself is being cut apart. So I obliged, gagging and whining a little as Rus beheaded me. That is one tradition my family will definitely hold onto!