Yesterday was my birthday. As far as birthdays go, it was a pretty good one, at least for me...but others seemed to be put off by it.
I don't understand why some people are so uncomfortable with age. Yesterday at the campus event I attended, I was asked "how does it feel to be 25?" I responded that "I don't remember because I celebrated a lot harder in those days, but 44 feels pretty awesome." In the same conversation someone else said "You can just be 29 again." WHY? I'm 44. More than a couple of people seemed to honestly recoil at me saying 44, like it's a dirty word. (And yet, they don't recoil when I say actual dirty words. And I do that. More than I should.)
I'M 44 Y'ALL. I have survived broken hearts and broken bones, car loans and car crashes. I have killed approximately two dozen goldfish and three dozen hair dryers. I have family and friends that keep me sane, despite the fact that I am an absolutely crazy (but generally-happy) person. All because I've lived 44 years. Not just 25. Not just 29. 44, y'all.