This post is not about a renaissance in Art Deco or Surrealism from the 1930s. No, I’m alluding to the fact that today is my, ahem, 38th birthday. I spent this morning having brunch with Andrew, my mom who’s in town from Philly, and my best friend Susan who has moved back to DC (hooray!). There was lots of love and good vibes.
I’m opting to forgo a long-winded, overwrought analysis of my life thus far—I do enough of that in this blog, don’t ya think? Instead, I’ll just give you the condensed version of how I’m currently feeling.
Let’s see, I’m almost completely comfortable in my own skin, having shed the big red wagon of insecurities that trailed me through my twenties and early thirties. Of course I still experience occasional bouts of self-doubt and awkwardness, but those instances can now fit into a fanny pack. (OK, you know I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a fanny pack but you get the idea.)
What else? In the 364 days since my last birthday, I completed a marathon, started this blog, and took a restorative yet inspiring vacation to New York City. I still adore the love of my life. And while I notice a growing number of gray hairs, they are balanced out by my youthful dimple.
Like everyone else, I am a work in progress…and happy to be moving forward on the right track.