It’s my birthday. I turned 33 this week.
I remember being a kid and meeting someone in their 30s and thinking they were so damn old. Now I’m there and apart from grey hairs, sleepless nights and an unhealthy dependence on coffee, I don’t feel that old.
My 30s so far have been some of my hardest years, but also some of my best ones. They have been years of learning hard truths about myself, recognizing what needs to change, and becoming comfortable in my own skin.
So here’s to the rest of this decade. Gonna devour this cake and wash it down with Prosecco.
Now 40s? That’s old.