*Song of the Day: Counting Crows- Holiday in Spain
I recently have been mistaken for both older and younger than I am. In April, I was asked if I was the mother of a 29 year old Caucasian man, who just happens to be my 6'3" husband (??). When I took Audrey semi formal dress shopping, the woman asked if we both needed a dress, and last week I was happily mistaken for a 25 yr old that didn't look old enough to have a teenage daughter. It proves how different opinions can be.
When I was 29, I dreaded becoming 30. Everyone said " the 30's are the new 20's." I thought to myself bullshit and kill me now. On my 30th birthday I sat and continuously cried, thinking it's all downhill from here.
From that moment I've repeatedly checked for crows feet, wrinkles, and grey hairs. I thought I found one the other day, but it was 1/2 blonde brown, and the last 1/2 black. It made me happy it wasn't grey, but shows me God likes to keep messing with me. Lol.
Today I took a picture with my teenage daughter, side by side. Looking at the picture I came to the conclusion age IS only a number. I don't feel my age, I don't feel I look my age, and sometimes I don't even act my age (ie. still making Austin Power references in 2013).
I felt embarrassed earlier this week saying out loud how old I am, but I've lived and earned each year. I've learned good and bad things from all of them; and whether I like it or not they are a part of me.
Here's to my number- 35, and to my daughter who helps me feel young in life. She reminds me it's not the number that matters, but the memories within them.
|Audrey and I :)|