Growing Older

schooner pride of baltimore 2 sails into balti...
Image by bill mcallen via Flickr

In a little over 3 weeks I turn 38 years old.  I generally view birthdays with a great deal of enthusiasm, often starting the countdown sometime in February.  I didn’t this year because my focus has been on becoming more healthy and changing my life instead of just getting older.

I always thought I would be taller at 38.  My mom seemed fairly tall when she was this age, though I was shorter.  I’m still shorter – a full inch shorter than her lofty 5’4.

I like to think I look younger at 38 than she did.  Most people guess I’m in my late 20s.  I think it’s the lack of children that keeps me young, though that sounds a bit weird.  I don’t worry as much as a parent would, I don’t have the same responsibilities.

I thought I would have children by now.  The grand plan was to be married by 28 and have my first child by 30.  Perfect.  Except I didn’t get married until I was 34, and children are probably not going to happen.  Five years of trying (and yes, we tried while we were dating/engaged) with not even a false alarm is a pretty good indication.

Well, that and a battery of really humiliating and painful tests.

I think I have pretty good genes, aside from the nearsightedness.  I’m smart, I’m talented, I’m charming, and I get cuter every day.  Not to mention more humble.

Someone told me once that women really hit their stride in their 30s.  Having spent nearly 8 years in the decade I can say, with certainty, that this is absolutely true.  I feel much more sure of myself and much less afraid of the future than I ever have.

No matter what happens next, I’m the captain of this ship.  That feels really good.

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