For one, not being embarrassed about saying that I am 32. There's something so cliché about a woman feigning outrage/ acting coy when asked about her age, or half-pretending she's only 21 every time her birthday rolls around. As if being 40, 50 or 60 somehow makes you less of a woman than a twentysomething with flawless skin and a bikini figure. Own it, I say. Embrace your age and all the joys and heartbreaks you've picked up over the years.
I love where my 32 years has brought me and all that I possess right now. I have health and I have happiness. That's got to mean something in the larger scheme of things. After all these years, I think I might have finally come to terms with the width of my hips. And they look just fine, thank you. And while I may not be rich, I have my work, and it's work that belongs to me and only me, my contribution to the ether that did not exist before. I'd like to think that I hold my own in an intelligent conversation without coming off ignorant or boring someone to death. And I roast a pretty mean chicken. Oh, and then there's that little thing about waking up everyday next to someone who makes my heart sing. Which I wish for everyone, regardless of their age.
And so yes, 32 awesome years. They rocked! :)
2 comments:
Sounds like every single one of those 32 years were well lived and worth celebrating!
Happy birthday whenever that is:)
@simplyjen-
they have been :) thank you very much!
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