I am officially now 36. (Thank you for asking!)
And while I am not that phased by the passing of another year, I am phased by the fact that I am no longer in the 24-35 year old demographic. Nope. I am now in the 36-45 year old portion of the population. Just one, tiny 1/4 of an inch separates the two check-off boxes on official paperwork, but in reality, I am finding that these two boxes are worlds apart.
For instance, at 24, it was an accomplishment to hold my pee during a rowdy night of beer drinking with my friends. We teased each other about "breaking the seal". No one. No one wanted to be the first to break her pee seal, because we all knew what would inevitably follow. Once a girl relieved her bladder, she would be back and forth to the bathroom for the rest of the evening. At 24, I could hold my bladder like a champ!
At 36 . . . not so much.
At 36, I am lucky if my bladder holds my first cup of morning coffee, let alone a night of beer. In fact, the old girl seems to be rebelling at me at any chance. If I sneeze, I pee. If I cough, I pee. If I laugh, you guessed it, I pee.
I am heading towards the Depends aisle in the grocery store, my friends.
This. This does not make me happy.
At 24, I got my eyebrows waxed regularly, at a salon, by a professional.
At 36, I wax my own eyebrows. Consequently, I have burned the skin between my eyes more than once. At 36, not only do I have to wax my brows, I also have to wax my lip . . . a duty that I had once relegated to the ranks of my old and hairy italian aunts. Apparently, at 36, I am now part of those ranks. I carry a pair of tweezers with me at all times, and I pluck stray hairs in the car while I am stopped at red lights. It seems that the magnified rearview mirror is the only place that I can see those pesky hairs that pop up!
At 24, I colored my hair for a change of pace.
At 36, I color my hair for necessity. While I have very few grays (hooray!), I am not above plucking out a stray gray. And now that sharpie markers come in so many different colors, I have and will continue to use a sharpie to color in a strand or two of offensive color. I love my sharpie marker!!
At 24, I had no idea about who I wanted to be, or, for that matter, who I was at that moment.
At 36, I am comfortable being me. I love my life of wife, mom, teacher, tutor, instructor, friend, laugher, lover and blogger. My life is full of daily silliness, laughs and hugs. I never knew I wanted to be a stay at home mom with 3 kiddies, but I wouldn't change it for the world. I am blessed!
Because at 36, my boobs may be way lower than they were at 24, but there are better things than perky boobs.
I am wiser.
I am more appreciative.
I am thankful.
So, I don't mind checking off that 36-45 box in the slightest.
But, I won't take plastic surgery off the table either!