Today I am 33. Which on one hand (well not entirely one hand….more like 6.2 hands…uhhh nerd) sounds really OLD and then on the other hand, I still can’t run for president so I’m not old enough to officially be responsible for a nation.
So, I’m still young.
It’s also my twin sister, Joy’s birthday…her first birthday as a MARRIED woman, which is exciting and all, but she’s also not responsible enough to run a nation, ring or no ring.
Looking back, 32 was the year I noticed that my body was no longer Superhuman and there are repercussions for my constant gallivanting around town.
Hangovers started becoming crippling, for one thing. Trips out of town for vacation took longer to recover from. (I know, life is so hard.)
JESUS, WHERE IS MY CANE.
I can’t just work out at the gym for a week and see results immediately anymore.
I have to wear glasses almost exclusively now.
I turn down complimentary bread at restaurants with the excuse “older people” use about how “no thanks, I’m already ordering pasta and I don’t need any more carbs to go to my THIGHS!”
Ya'll...I SAW AN OLD DVD OF MY SO-CALLED LIFE AND IDENTIFIED WITH THE PARENTS.
(I will turn in my cool pass now.)
But 32 was a bitchin’ year all the same and I did a lot. More than some people do in a lifetime.
I traveled to Austin, Texas, Suwannee, Florida, Los Angeles, the Dominican Republic, New Orleans FIVE times, Edisto Beach, SC and Washington D.C. These were not work-related trips.
And yes, it took me a week to recover from each.
(Especially Austin, I searched Twitter a week after my flight to see if anyone had posted a picture of a passed out blonde girl in cowboy boots sprawled on the floor of Concourse B.)
I was in three weddings at age 32.
Simultaneously, I joined, and then quit, Match.com.
I got a dog! (No I did mean to non-sequitor DOG after mentioning Match.com, but it’s fitting, and it stays.)
I quickly learned that dogs get up at 7 a.m. every day to eat.
I’d like to think that even if my body is getting DUMBER each year (since when is it OK to just start rejecting my nightly bottle-of-wine-and-Netflix life choices, body???)
...My brain is getting smarter.
I am realizing the financial benefits of staying in sometimes. (seriously, take away my cool card.)
I’m trying to be a better cook.
Joy and I are finally selling the house we bought 8 years ago. These are all "smart choices," or so says Money Magazine.
Also, I’m reading Money Magazine.
In fact, currently, I am hobbling around because I pulled something in my leg while painting the ceiling of the bathroom last night.
(At least I didn’t try and balance on a bar stool in the tub this time. See? Getting SMARTER.)
At midnight last night, when it was officially my 33rd birthday, I was scrubbing the sh*t out of my oven, head completely inside of it, like the witch from Hansel and Gretel.
…Not out with friends taking a tequila shot.
OH GOD, I’M OLD.
But even so, I’m hopeful and excited about what 33 has in store.
Because say what you will about my life choices, they aren’t boring.
(Or cheap! –Citibank)
(BITE ME CITIBANK)
I'm going to try and write more. I am currently writing a pilot for a TV show, a mystery novel, a children's book and a young adult novel in which I hope to include a vampire. (#NeverStopHustling)
That should keep me busy for the next 365 days.
But if somehow, SOME WAY I find myself bored, it's good to know that in two years, I’ll be able to run for president.
I think my dog will enjoy the White House lawn.
Oh, and, obviously...Joy for Vice-President.
Here's to the BEST 33rd year ever.
|VOTE FOR ME!|