Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Just a number, for a numbers girl.

Today starts my last trip around the sun as a 30-something.

There are any number of folks who would be bothered by that. I've never been one who was overly concerned about age - my own, or that of those around me. (Legal ramifications as applies, and all that....)

Here's the thing. I'm far less interested in the number as I am the life. The experiences. The personalities. People are not upset about their ages - they are upset that they've reached a number but not a goal, or a target - real or imagined.

People talk about being of a certain age and having not yet done "something" - had kids, bought a house, graduated from college, made X number of dollars, travelled the world. Whatever that target was, they become bothered that they didn't hit it yet.

Some folks get very caught up in personal appearance, like hitting a certain birthday means it is time to start eating better, working out, using a certain moisturizer. I know when I reached 30, I had this thought that maybe I should do a better job of "dressing" like a "grownup". You see, I'm a jeans and t-shirts kind of girl. I rarely wear makeup, my hair is usually in a ponytail, and I'm most comfortable in a pair of sneakers.

One girl's weekend later, I had a new work wardrobe from Ann Taylor Loft, and can successfully fake "grownup" with the best of them. You know what you'll still find me wearing most of the time? Jeans. T-shirts. Sneakers. It's who I am, and it didn't take long for me to recognize that, while sometimes, because of my career, I do need to put on nice pants and some dressier shoes, how I am dressed does not define me. *I* define how I dress.

Once upon a time, the idea of being 40 felt really far away. Now, the idea of being 40 just feels... strange, I guess, because 40 is supposed to mean something, and really, it doesn't. Maybe when I get there next year I'll feel differently, but from where I'm sitting? Here, at 39?

Really is just a number.

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