No, really. Today is the anniversary of my harrowing escape from the womb. C-section. Never touched a vagina. Probably never will.
Well, I finally feel like I'm out of my mid twenties and into the "almost 30s". Which...doesn't thrill me. I don't mind growing older. I've been looking forward to 35 for a long, long time. Like...since I was 16. I always pictured it as the perfect age, the age where you've got life figured out and you're kicking back to enjoy it knowing who you are and what you want out of life. But...the closer and closer I get to all my peers being 35, I realize that they haven't got it all figured out. They don't know what they want out of life. They don't know who they are. They're suffering divorces, job loss, the death of loved ones...
I still look forward to it. But 30...30? Not so much. Why? I don't know. My friend Jhonna said it's probably because 30 feels so much more concretely adult. It does. But I'm all about growing older but not growing old. Maturity doesn't mean you have to stop being a kid at heart. And that's where I am. I'm playing Pokemon, for God's sake! I mean...really. Getting older isn't a bad thing. I have more disposable income, and I can finally start to afford to do the things I've always wanted to do and to have the things I've always wanted to have.
I've got a wonderful boyfriend who takes great care of me and loves me. I'm healthy (as far as I know), and happy (for the most part). We've got a Marbles Kitty and a place for him to plop his fat butt. And there are PRESENTS on the table in the kitchen that it's KILLING ME not to open. No matter the age, I'll never be too old to be excited about birthday presents. Now I'm just old enough to realize that a birthday dinner is a present, too.
Greetings from 28. I wish you were here!
It’s Old-man Christmas.
14 hours ago