We went out last night to celebrate this whole "getting older" thing.
Coworker: "Wait...How old are you?!"
Me: "It really doesn't matter. Say, did you watch that Dallas game last night? Could you believe that ending?"
Coworker: "Do I look like I watch football? Nice try. How old are you now?"
So yesterday was my birthday.
I turned 35.
Remember when you were back in high school and 35 seemed so...old?! Well, I don't really feel old. I still want to wear the 4" high heels, tell the dirty jokes that make people gasp, and drink a cheap beer because I actually prefer it over an expensive red wine on a random Thursday night. But as I look at turning 35...there is a part of me that wonders if this is still acceptable behavior?
That said, it seems that the older I get the less value I put into what others think of me. Honestly, I would never have been brave enough to even have a blog 5 years ago. I would be far too concerned with the negative feedback that comes with putting yourself out there like this. So there is a sense of freedom that comes with getting older.
So I figure at this rate, I'll be one of those grandmas that rocks leopard print, drops the occasional dirty word, and orders a vodka tonic at breakfast time without thinking twice.
On this birthday, I want to tell you thank you so, so much. I appreciate you reading this little blog more than you know.
xo - this old chick