When did I get old? |
My laugh lines are staying put long after the laughing stops, my spider veins are multiplying, and various parts of my body are succumbing to gravity. Forget saving for the kids' college funds...I'm saving for botox, laser treatments, and a boob lift. Instead of a night out to celebrate, I'd kill for eight hours of uninterrupted sleep (followed by two more for good measure). I'm going to a bachelorette party on Saturday and praying that I don't black-out after drinking two beers. And I'm quite sure I'll end up with alcohol poisoning if I have more than four. Four beers used to just be the pre-party.
But, while I no longer look like a co-ed and my stamina for a night out has dwindled, I still think every year gets better than the last. I'm digging my thirties. I'm comfortable in my skin and in my life choices. I'm a calmer, less dramatic version of my 20-something self. I know having the last word, doesn't necessarily make you the winner and drawing attention, doesn't necessarily make you interesting. While I'm still striving to be a better person and pursue new challenges, and hope I always will be, I'm doing it for me--not to prove something to someone else. I may have traded in my four-inch heels for ballet flats and bar crawls for Chuck E Cheese parties, but I'm happy, healthy, and loved.
So, bring on the mid-thirties...and the late thirties...and keeping it going right up to the nineties, should I be so blessed. Because if things keep improving at the rate of the past 34 years, I'll be having one kickass life at 94! I think I'll ask for 35 candles on my cake tonight...I need one to grow on.
No comments:
Post a Comment