My birthday was earlier this week, and with it came the inevitable step closer to 40. I'm ok with it (though I did wear a Cookie Monster T-shirt today... overcompensate much?).
But most of the time, I feel about 20, and Beau acts like a 17-year-old on a sugar high much of the time. Age is just a number, and it's much, much better than the alternative.
But it reminds me of a story.
At the ripe old age of 26, I attended my roommate's birthday party. The theme was Wig and Skate. It's very complicated, so allow me to explain: we wore wigs and went rollerskating.
We were a massive (albeit tipsy) hit at the roller rink, and little kids swarmed around us as we skated.
One little girl asked if I would skate with her. As we rolled around the rink to a Britney Spears tune, she turned to me and said How old are you?
I smiled, confident in my 26-year-old hotness, and replied How old do you think I am?
She looked at me and concentrated and said I don't know. About 75?
So much for 26-year-old hotness. :)
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