Birthday

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I’ll be turning 32 at some point during this month.

I grew up with the whole, “Hide your real age and try to look younger,” shtick, but I’m really enjoying the whole process of growing older and more mature. It wasn’t until my 30th birthday, for example, that I decided I didn’t care what sort of hairstyles everyone else said would look good with my face type, and that I would do what *I* thought was pretty instead. Personally, I like the way I look much better now than I did ten years ago.

I enjoy being a weird homemade bohemian goth with a gazillion kids WAY more than I ever liked wearing t-shirts and jeans, and working a full time job.

Other benefits of being in my 30s include finally working up the courage to self-publish my fiction, without taking it as a criticism when I didn’t instantly turn into an overnight success story. I’m rather glad I don’t have that burden right now.

I think it will be an absolute blast when I hit middle age and start speaking my mind without worrying about what everyone will think of me. Hopefully for everyone else, leggings will have fallen out of fashion by then.

Truthfully, sometimes I fantasize about being more publicly visible and influencing people away from that particular trend. Because seriously, it’s a pretty stupid when women dictate to me that leggings are more “comfortable” when I’m wearing culottes. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that attributes like “breathable”, “nonrestrictive”, and “flattering” didn’t count as comfortable. My bad.

Besides, I’m nearly 32 and I have a gazillion kids. I have no interest in trying to flaunt every detail of my body like I’m 22. I’d like to age with dignity and keep my cellulite to myself.

Lol, tangent.

Anyway, I remember being that t-shirts and jeans person, lying on the floor of my studio apartment, staring at the ceiling and wishing more than anything that I could quit my job and be a full-time author. I wanted it so badly it hurt, but every inquiry I made to publishers went nowhere and I was too terrified of failure to strike out on my own.

I wonder why, when I had all the time and energy I could possibly need, my approach to the world was so limited and fearful.

Oh, my darling young self, you have no idea what could have happened if you had been courageous enough to create your own path.

Live ‘n learn. I was the best I knew how to be, and that was enough to lead me here. After all, 32 is hardly decrepit.

When I think about the future, I see myself overflowing with creativity and surrounded by a gazillion loved ones. I look forward to my birthdays, and marking another year of growing and maturing with the people who matter the most.

2 comments

  1. Happy early birthday. What do we consider “middle age” now days? I’m 42 so is it 45? If I can speak my mind at middle age, well, then, people better brace themselves. I always thought it was when we were elderly we could speak our minds. My grandmother certainly did when she hit her 80s and by the 90s…watch out! Bam! She didn’t trash people but she also told people where to go and what to do pretty easily. lol. I don’t have a gazillion children, but I hit perimenopause in the last couple of years (based on symptoms) and I really stopped caring a lot about what people thought about me and my life. I also started to self publish and put a novel on Kindle in September and hope to do another one in March. Good luck with 32! I’m sure it will be awesome.

    Liked by 1 person

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