Less than two months from today, I will turn 39. I won't say exactly when because I don't want anyone wishing me a happy birthday. I don't care for that. I've always thought that the insistence people have in celebrating their birthdays is a bit narcisistic.It's a strange year, 39. Not quite 40, but so close to it. It makes me feel weird.
Throughout my 30s, I took great comfort in saying, "Oh, I'm just 29 + n." So, at 35, I said, I was "29 plus 6." But now that I'm 29 + 10, that no longer seems appropriate.
Saying that I'm 40 minus 1? That's just depressing.
I've actually enjoyed being 38. In fact, I once heard a fifty-something talk-show host say, "What is it about us 50-year-olds, that we always say we're 38, or that we'd like to be 38 again? There's just something magical about being 38."
I had to smile. But now that 39 is looming, I don't know how to feel about it.
I spent most of my 30s doing what I never had neither the chance nor the cojones to do during my 20s. No explanation necessary; I think you get my gist. It involved a lot of partying and a lot of pot, a consequence of living in London, the city with the wildest nightlife on the planet. 'Nuff said.
I've outgrown all that now. I honestly think I'm ready to accept being on the verge of 40 and the maturity that comes with it. But I'm not 40—yet. That number won't enter my life until the late autumn of 2009.
So, how do I feel about turning 39 in the very near future? I'm just glad to still be in my 30s. I have one year left of my thirty-something years, and I will make the most of it.
But first, I'm going to enjoy and revel in still technically being 38.
1 comment:
I turned 35 this year, and it was weird. I've never cared about my age till now. I don't think of myself as old, but I remember that when I was a kid, I thought 35 was ancient. I think age is really what we make of it, but still 39 is a big deal. So, when ever your birthday is, I hope you and Squrril go and have a fun time!
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