Today, I turned twenty-nine.
I can say without question that twenty-eight was the best year of my life. Other ages don’t even come close. Not by a long shot.
The optimist in me thinks that it can only get better from here. The morbid pessimist in me thinks, “Oops. I’ve peaked.”
As a woman, I know I’m supposed to freak out that I’m only one year away from thirty and not married and/or pregnant yet, oh noes, my biological clock and I don’t have a husband!
But if twenty-eight was great, then twenty-nine is almost guaranteed to be even better.
A part of me can’t wait until thirty. But before that, I’m going to enjoy twenty-nine.
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Happy Birthday! I always enjoy reading your blog, your take and commentary on a woman’s perspective of the world around us and being introduced to new things from your blog. Here’s wishing you that each year is better than the last.
Well, enjoy your last year of your twenties– after that you’ll be finally able to say: “Oh, those obnoxious twenty year olds!” But seriosly — happy birthday and I’m sure each year will be even more LEGEN — wait for it and I hope you’re not lactose intolerant because the second word is — DA(I)RY!
I wish you a lot of good portrayals of women in media, a big success with your novel and script, and a bit of deliciously illogical troll droppings — because it’s such a pleasure sometimes to crush them!
Happy Birthday.