Birthdays were always so fabulous for me as a kid. The youngest of five, it was my chance to have all the love lavished on little ole me that I could possibly want. Good food and gifts and attention. Just for me! All for me!
And whatever age I was turning, I just knew was going to be incredible. Just because I was that magic number. Oh, the possibilities of what that next year would hold.
I would even practice writing out my new age in the weeks preceding the big day. (I think the number 8 was my favorite because it is such a swirly and decorative number).
Today I turned 39. And somehow, and I know this will come as a shock, birthdays just aren't what they used to be when I was a kid and the number 39 doesn't exactly invite visions of adventure to dance through my head.
When I think of the number 39 I think of:
*the times I have told myself in the last week that getting older is no big deal; in fact it is great, and that I will do so gracefully and with a zest for what is before me...blah, blah, blah...
*the number of vitamins and supplements I require to function with energy in a day (approximately, of course!)
*pounds I would like to lose before I am 40 (no, not really, but sometimes 9 pounds feels like 39)
Honestly, I think my "issue" lies in the fact that I don't typically FEEL like I am getting older but my brain is telling me that today I am in fact older. Yesterday I was in the middle-late-30's category. But today I am a late-30's-pushing-into-40's.
For those of you who have reached or surpassed this number of years in your life, feel free to slowly shake your head in amused pity/sympathy as I grapple with this minor transition. For those of you yet to reach this milestone of your life, feel free to smugly smile at my expense...because your day is a-comin'!
Note: My sweet husband and family are treating me like a queen for which I feel so blessed!