Maybe you couldn’t tell from the title of this post, but IT’S MY BIRTHDAY. I’ve been alive for 27 whole birthdays now, and let me tell you – I’ve gotten pretty good at it. This whole living thing, I mean. I’ve got 27 whole years of it under my belt. I’ve even picked up a life lesson or two along the way, and today I’m going to share them with you because I’m becoming increasingly generous and benevolent in my old age.
By age 27 I have learned that life is exhausting. Last year, 26-year-old-me threw herself a massive birthday house party with 30 of her closest friends… this year, 27-year-old-me cannot fathom putting forth that much effort. Generally speaking, these days I feel as though merely putting on eyeliner is too much work.
I’ve come to learn that wine tastes better when the glass is half full, rather than half empty…but it tastes the best when the glass is full to the brim. Fill ‘er up.
This year I learned that I survive a whole 36 hours on tacos, queso and margaritas alone without even a hint of a craving for a single leafy green.
After 27 birthdays, I now know that laughter really is the best medicine. So be sure to laugh when your friends/family members/loved ones do spectacularly embarrassing things.
At age 27 I’ve finally mastered letting go of the things that hold me back, or restrain me. *Takes off bra in the middle of the office*
By now, I’ve mastered living to the point of realizing that we make time for the things that really matter to us, and how easy it is to fill our schedules to avoid the things that don’t (I’m looking at you, exercise).
My body has totally mastered digesting alcohol at age 27 – now a single glass of wine turns me into a rambling, say-anything-that-comes-to-
Speaking of alcohol, I’ve finally accepted that $5 wine tastes just as good as $20 wine to my 27-year-old palate, and I can afford much more of it. Win-win.
At age 27, I’ve learned that I will probably never ever like tomatoes or grapes. They’re slimy and it’s like eating a gross wet booger (I’ve also mostly mastered vivid similes after these 27 years…you’re welcome).
I’m so good at being alive that my scalp has decided to singlehandedly (single…headedly?) throw a party for the rest of me – complete with grey hairs resembling party tinsel, which seem to duplicate every day.
After 27 birthdays, my body learned to grow these really cute little whisker-type hairs on my chin. I can’t see them in normal indoor lighting, but when the sun hits them just right, you could basically mistake me for one of my dumpster cats.
By my 27th birthday, I’ve learned that in life we are only limited by the things we tell ourselves we can’t do. So write your novel, run your marathon, track down your favorite celebrity’s home address on the internet and set up camp in their front yard because they’re bound to notice –and fall in love with– you eventually and they definitely won’t have you arrested for trespassing. Whatever you dream, you can do it!
Happy birthday to me. (Have I mentioned how very deeply I LOVE birthdays?)
—The Wife in Training