Today is my birthday. I’m not ashamed of my age (47), but I am a bit surprised at it. It’s like I woke up one day several years ago, looked in the mirror and though, damn, when did I get old?
My face is fat, my skin doesn’t have that youthful glow, and my eyes are hooded.
But I have to say, I’m very happy in my skin these days. I’ve started working out (going to 9Round – “get fit, not hit”), drinking more water. I journal more often. Buddhism and mindfulness are part of my daily routine. And my writing is, very slowly, becoming more authentic. The older I get, the less I worry about what people will think.
At one time, I thought my birthday deserved a celebration. Then, 12 years ago, I spent my birthday at my best friend’s visitation after she lost her battle with cancer, so I didn’t even want to acknowledge my birthday. And now? Now, I feel good. I’m in a good place. And am looking forward to celebrating my birthday with pizza, beer and the 2 hour season premiere of The Following.