After a couple months of everything in life feeling like it was a little harder than it needed to be, and life just throwing one sucker punch after another, it feels like the proverbial clouds have parted and ease is raining down upon me.
My week has been busy, as will the next few days be, too. My mind’s not on sex, not on writing, so I’m just taking a moment to share before the craziness comes down.
Some family’s coming to visit me this weekend, as I secretly suspect my aunt wants to shower a little money on me after having lost 45+ pounds this year. I was laughing on the phone with her last weekend, saying how I’ve suspended my weight-loss campaign (before McCain’s “suspension madness”) because I can’t afford the clothes I need for my new body, let alone a skinnier one, so I’ve pushed the pause button for the last couple months. All of a sudden I get this phone call last night saying they’re coming to town and seeing me for the first time in two years. I can’t help but smell a shopping trip. (Please, Cosmos?)
Monday I turn 35. Wow! The end of an era. The end of being in that coveted 18-34 demographic. I will officially be out of the realm of cool. And I couldn’t care less.
I’ve never understood these people who lie about their age. Why? Weren’t they there for every waking day? Didn’t they earn their age? Don’t we all accrue our months and years? What’s with the age shame? How many ways can I say “stupid”?
Come on, people, own your shit. I am a cool, cute, sexy, fun, youthful 35, and I fucking love it. 40 doesn’t scare me either. I look younger than 35 and could easily get away with saying I’m 30 or even younger, but why? I’ve endured a lot of shit, seen a lot of things, in my 35 years. I wear my age with pride.
I do feel regret when I consider my age at times. I wish I was further in life. I wish my finances were better. I wish I’d travelled more. I wish, I wish. But that’s the way life goes, full of surprises. Detours. While all my friends were getting their financial shit sorted in their 20s, in the midst of dealing with the death of my mother, I dealt with years and years of stupid, bad injuries and near-death accidents that left me for years in chronic pain, throwing money after pain management and treatment like you wouldn’t believe– thousands and thousands of dollars each year– money that would never do anything to lay the foundation for a successful life that someone in their 20s should be laying.
Friends spent thousands on trips and toys, cars and homes, and I spent my money on trying to get to the other side of a world of pain. And I’m there. I don’t live with pain anymore. I’m strong, I’m healthy, and I’m still improving. And I’d spend my money the same way if I had to do it all again. I’m still dealing with money, but I’m at the almost-end of all the financial catching up I’ve had to do, and I know it.
Our lives take the most unimaginable detours from what we would expect sometimes. And as hard as some of my detours have been, I’m still really pleased with where I’m at. I’ve done the best with what I’ve had, man. I’ve done the best I could. The best I could, for whatever that’s worth.
So, I’m staring at that big 35, and I don’t mind one bit.
Me, I think it’ll be a fabulous year. Just fabulous. Here’s wishing everyone a great weekend.
PS: After two years of my scooter underperforming, I think a friend finally solved the problem when we threw a new muffler and rollers into it last night. It finally goes fast, I finally have power, and I can finally stop feeling like a victim on wheels. I cannot tell you the combination of joy and relief that fills me with. You just have no idea. I’m so looking forward to riding to traffic court this morning. Yes, fighting the man, man! We’ll see if I get my ticket & towing from May tossed out. Scooter running happily? One of the best birthday gifts ever!