Forget the Number and Enjoy the Cake

Birthdays are strange days. Some people hate them. Some people love them. For some people, I think it just depends on which birthday it is. Saturday will be number 36 for me.

I think the thing that surprises me the most is the "How did I get here?" part of it. There are so many parts of my younger days that I remember so vividly. It just doesn't feel like I should be here already. What happened to my 20's? Does that mean that age 70 will be here just as quickly?

Then there is the media. I remember reading an article recently about 36 being the age of the "peak of beauty" for most women. This brings up multiple questions. Does this mean that after Saturday, any hope of being beautiful is unachievable? How am I supposed to feel a year from Saturday? What about a decade from Saturday? All of this spins in my head, while everyone celebrated in the media is looking skinnier and skinnier and younger and more buffed and more and more plastic.

We're all getting older. It's inevitable. We've all heard the line about it being "better than the alternative". So, as I approach 36, this is how I feel about it:

I am going to use whatever creams, scrubs, sunscreens, haircolors, vitamins, etc. that I can to look my best for my age, but I am not going to worry about the lines on my face. I am not going to worry about a number on my driver's license. I am never going to be as skinny as the girls on the runways in Paris, (nor would I want to be) but I am going to watch what I eat, work out, and do the best I can with the curves that I have.

The fact of the matter is, we are all aging better. If Kirstie Alley can wear a bikini on Oprah in her 50's then doggone it, I am looking forward to my 50's. Age is just a number and a birthday is just like any other day.

Except I think I like birthdays better--because there is cake.

Who knows...maybe that's the key to personal peace with aging. We just have to forget the number of candles and just enjoy the cake.