Sometime this month, I will turn 37.
After much deliberation, I decided to avoid disclosing the exact date, since a person’s date of birth is one of the pieces of info used by identity thieves to perform identity theft. So there. I may be a bit on the paranoid side here, but I am exercising some out-of-character internet caution.
Back to being 37.
You know, I could take the gray hairs and crow’s feet. Really. It’s not that. I’m just as vain as anyone else, if not more so, but this is a deeper issue. These are just symptoms of a scary process that’s going on inside of me.
I am growing older.
You know how in your twenties you feel invincible, like you will be forever young and maybe even live forever? Well, you won’t. And your thirties are when you start to realize that, because you see the warning signs.
So, it turns out I am NOT invincible and I AM going to die.
Prior to dying, I do have something nice planned out for my birthday: a delicious dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, possibly followed by a glass or two of champagne at The Bubble Lounge. Once the birthday festivities are over, I plan to take a cab back home, where I will kiss my sleeping kids on the forehead and silently count my blessings.
I survived another year. Happy birthday to me. 🙂
In the photo: this guy seems to be determined to grow old with me. The whinier I get, the more patient he becomes. So, in case I haven’t said it publicly yet: I love you Ido. Thank you for growing old with me.