I’ll be the first to admit that I used to gripe about getting carded well past the age of 21.
At the grocery store to buy alcohol, on an airplane so I could sit at next to the emergency exit, at the movie theater. Once my husband (then boyfriend) and I got stopped for a curfew check while walking around Universal City Walk. The copy wasn’t thrilled with our attitude. We didn’t even know there was such a thing. I disappointed every accuser. It doesn’t happen that much now.
Okay it’s been a minute. Fine it’s been a few years.
So I stopped thinking about my age, I usually spit out a different number every time my son asks. I do it so much that I have to confirm with my husband how old we are since we are the same age. I’m a tiny bit younger.
At work, people don’t realize my experience “age” until I mention that I have kids. Especially when I say one is almost thirteen. Geez, thirteen! That’s another story.
I have 5 months to prepare for that day.
But I never volunteer my age because I didn’t like getting older. It’s funny how you spend your entire childhood wishing you were older. Then when you are, you wish you could live as carefeee as you did when you were a kid.
So I had an unhealthy relation with age until recently.
I have been embracing my experience and age.
Because I know my shit. I know what I want. Now it’s time to go after it 100 percent.
I’m moving closer to the life I want to live everyday.