Birthday Grrrl

I was never one of those children who couldn’t WAIT to grow up. When I was 7, I didn’t want to be 8. When I was 15, I could take or leave 16. I was acutely aware that, as Winston Churchill said, the world was made to be wooed and won by youth.

My peak

So, blah, today is my birthday and from here on out, I’m not counting numbers anymore. It’s not that I’m old, because I’m really not, but focusing on exactly what age I am makes me feel old.

In fact, I just may make up a new age for myself every year, depending on how I feel. One year, such as this one, I might feel 26. But next year, who knows—I could be engaged and pregnant and feel more like I’m 34, so that’s what I’ll tell people.

WHAT.

And they’ll say “WOW you look great for 34!” and I’ll be like “Oh pfft I’ve had loads of Botox” and they’ll be like “Uh…really?” and I’ll be all “No not really. I’m actually just lying” and they’ll go “Wait, about what? Botox or being 34?” and I’ll just say “LOL! JK! BRB!” and walk away. And then we’ll both feel awkward.