I managed to make it through another year alive. I wasn’t too sure after getting hit by a car and nearly killing myself on the side of a mountain, but it looks like I’m still in one piece.
29 years old. That’s a decent bit of time.
Funny/sad story. Two weeks ago I looked at Tree and said, “Dang Terese…I’m gonna be twenty eight years old.” She looked at me, with a sort of “Oh you poor thing” expression.
“Baby, You ARE 28. you’re going to be 29.”
I was a little taken aback. I had never internalized being 28. Seriously. The thought just never took hold. No sarcasm here. Here’s proof: Here’s a comment I made at the beginning of July, clearly saying I was 27 years old. And I’m not vain enough to just lie about my age.
I lost a whole year. I had 12 months to enjoy being 28, but I squandered it thinking I was lame old 27. I just googled “28 year old” and all I got was stories about 28yo guys murdering people. Imagine if I had taken hold of my 28’ness. I could have changed the world’s perception of 28 year old men.
But maybe it’s not too late. After all, I’ve got 12 more months of being 28!