It sucked. I cried.
Because yesterday was the day before I turned 39 and 2 days before I celebrate my last year in my 30’s with friends at a piano bar somewhere in Orange County. And who wants to look like that when they’re Drunk Dancing next to a piano while some dude plays a bad cover of Don’t Stop Believing?
No one. That’s who.
Today, my eyes are slightly less swollen, my throat isn’t as sore and I have not cried once. Today isn’t for crying. Today is for reflecting. Reflecting upon the 38th year of my life.
Turns out, Year 38 was the best year of my adult life.
Nothing extraordinary happened. But it was extraordinary.
It was a year full of small victories, both physical and emotional, that helped shape a Better Me. A happier, healthier, stronger, more content Me. It was the year I stopped hating my body because I was too busy loving my life.
38 was so good to me in so many ways, for so many reasons.
I got to spend time in the city I love the most, New York City.
Twice. And the second time, I got to ride to Central Park in a pedicab driven by Mario.
I reunited with friends from high school, 3 of them whose friendship saved me from feeling totally alone during the hardest years of my life. I went to my 20th high school reunion where I was stalked by an old class mate. I ran my first (treadmill) 5K. I bought and wore my first dress in many,many years.
I had lunch with Tony Hawk.
I reconnected with dear, old friends and made new ones that have brought so much laughter (and Stella Rosa) into my life.
I Owned My Sexy. Oh, yes I did.
I got a promotion. I cut bangs. I had Hot Soapy Naked fun in Vegas.
I got my medical problems under control. I lost more weight. I gained more confidence.
I watched my daughter blossom in kindergarten, make new friends, learn to read. I watched my son win a drum contest, crush his opponents on the basketball court and receive numerous academic and social awards. I watched my oldest take his senior portraits and began his last year in high school.
I fell in love with dancing and I danced so hard, more than I’ve ever danced in my entire life.
Tomorrow night I plan on spending the evening dancing, surrounded by people whom I love. I started to panic a bit yesterday, because people started sending me the all too familiar “sorry, I won’t be able to make it after all” messages. But then I talked to a friend who told me “it doesn’t matter if it’s just me and you and your sister, we’re going to have so much fun.”
She’s right. Tomorrow is going to be so great.
But first, I have to get through today. The first day of my 39th year. I welcome it with open arms. And quite possibly, a drink in my hand.