In a week and a day it will be my birthday and I will be 36 and already as the day approaches I’m a little bit nervous because 35 sucked so badly. Not necessarily the year, because that has had its definite ups and downs, but the day itself was tinged with just an overwhelming sense of blah that I find myself almost dreading next Tuesday.
There’s nothing special about 36.
Admittedly, 35 messed me up a lot because at 35 you’re old enough to be president. Some people in charge decided that 35 was old enough somehow to run the United States of America. Surely that’s kind of a big job. Surely you have to be OLD and MATURE to do something like that and surely there’s no way that 35 is old enough or mature enough. But someone decided it was and that freaked me the hell out.
I COULD BE RUNNING OUR COUNTRY. I’M OLD ENOUGH.
(You either see how this freaks me out or you don’t. If you don’t, I’m guessing that you’re somewhere in your early 20s and you have yet to find your first gray hair and maybe you still get carded regularly. I don’t hate you. I don’t. But… shhhh.)
But 36 is nothing. I’m still old enough to run the country (and sometimes I seriously consider it because y’all, really? I think I’d be kind of okay at it) but beyond that, nothing new. More grays more wrinkles more stress more blah.
I’m not sure I had any idea last year where the year would take me. And I’ve earned the right to celebrate this year. I’ve earned the chance to enjoy the day and celebrate the day my mom nearly gave birth to me in the car (I know, right?).
I need to snap out of this dread thing. I need to embrace my birthday the way I used to. I need to quit being a little whiny bitch about it all.
In just over a week, I’ll be 36. I’ll be closer to the election of 2016. I’ll be ready to run the country then.
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