Today is the eve of my birthday and like every other year I am grateful for being alive and kicking. It truly is a blessing as growing old is a privilege denied to many.
This was not the case 2 years ago though. I was dreading the big 3-OH! Being the drama queen I am, I was literally sick. 30-Something meant that I would be an adult in real life and people’s kids would call me aunty without there being any blood relation. I would stare at my reflection in the mirror and check for fine lines and wrinkles for ages and would count pores too. If my mirror could talk she’d tell you of my obsession with wrinkles. Before that were to happen she’d probably tell me where to get off first. I still love her though.
Turns out all the melodrama was for nothing. Today I realise that I’ve overcome my awkward teen years and the not so flattering 20’s and esteem issues that comes with it. Being a 30 something is not so bad after all. With age comes experience. Besides I am only as old as I feel. Much to my kids horror I still feel like I’m a teen. A much wiser teen to be exact.
Today I am as excited as a preschooler who has one more sleepie to go. And though grey has made permanent residency amongst the rest of my hair I’ve learnt that age is NOT nothing but a number, it is in fact a word.