Today, I’m twenty-six.
In just a few short hours, I will no longer be in my mid-twenties. Nope, I will be
And that, friends, is where I’m choosing to pause for a bit--- take a brief hiatus, if you will.
Never did I think I’d be one of those terribly vein people.
Alas, I yam…
I still feel like a child. A teeny bopper. A young whippersnapper.
However, the truth of the matter is that I’m getting older.
I’m concerned about wrinkles. Dresses are made a little too short. And I’m wearing my pants closer to my belly button than I used to. Somewhere between the journey from novelty tees to twinsets, I ended up twenty-seven.
So, I’ve decided that tomorrow I will celebrate my first 27th birthday. There’s just something about twenty-seven that sounds good. Not tons worse than twenty-six, but scads better than twenty-eight.
While I’m grappling with the whole aging concept (something that was never supposed to happen to little ole me), I am appreciative of change. While celebrating my birthday this weekend with my fam in the big TN, I happened upon an incredibly flattering picture of me. Saaaaaarcasm.
The chances of me ending up in a sugar-induced coma tomorrow are looking fairly favorable. And I’m not scared. Bring on the Starbucks, Gigi’s, and Reece’s. This insanely un-Paleo cheat birthday is going to be epic, and that’s not even a loose use of the term.
|Happy birthday, Husb!|
|I love this woman. For reals.|