Happy Birthday to Me

5 09 2009

Today is my birthday. I am now officially 36 and proud of it. I’ve actually been saying I’m 36 for the past 2 or 3 months. I realize that I am probably the only woman (or man, for that matter) over the age of 29 who actually readily admits to her age and even revels in it. I like being 36. I’m actually looking forward to 40. Every year that I get older, things get better. I have a career I love right now. I have a beautiful daughter and a halfway decent husband (ok, ok, he’s pretty terrific, but don’t tell him I said that. It will ruin the illusion.). I actually drive a car that works. I own real estate (very modest real estate, but real estate nonetheless). I actually really don’t care what other people think of me anymore. I have an enviable shoe collection, and an even more enviable book collection. I could go on and on. Let’s face it, the only thing that isn’t better at 36 than at 26 is my skin, and actually that’s not so bad (thank you, Iranian genes).

Plus, unlike the kids of today, I can say that I actually listened to the Pixies the first time around.




One response

5 09 2009

I have to agree. I enjoy getting older. I love that my family is not all babies anymore either. I also don’t want to go through my 20’s again. Life should hopefully only get better. Right?

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