Happy birthday to me. I have never been one to shy away from or dread my birthday. In fact, I celebrate it with abandon. And I will never be one to lie about my age. There’s no way on planet Earth I would want to be 21 again. I’ll take 36 over it any day of the week—with age comes wisdom and with birthdays come the celebration of life. Sure, I’d love to have my 21-year-old skin back, but hey, that’s what Dr. Donna Bilu Martin at Horwitz Dermatology is for. While I may not deny my age, I’m not going to give into it either. This girl’s not going down without a fight. Slather me in wrinkle cream, give me that Botox shot, sign me up for the hardest Pilates class. I’m ready.
Let’s face it, I’m not exactly your typical blogger. In a sea of 20-something-year-olds, I’m a 36-year-old mom. I know what it means to look in the mirror and see lines where there weren’t any, sag where muscles used to be. I’ve declared war on grey hairs, felt the sting of arthritis and know if I don’t write it down, there’s a 99 percent chance I’m going to forget. I say mom things, carry wipes in my purse, pack a sweater “just in case” and remember watching Three’s Company pre re-runs. But I’m not going to let getting older make me old. No way. My mom always said stretching will keep you young. After my first few rendezvous with yoga, I’m convinced she’s right. So, to celebrate my 36th, I’m decided to bind up in poses I didn’t posses the wisdom to do in my youth. From my mouth to God’s ears may I be that old lady in your yoga class who can stand on her head, pop into full lotus and push up into a handstand—without breaking a sweat.
Yeah, I may indulge in a slice of two of my Bunnie Cakes this birthday, but I’ll be back to burning it off the next day and giving 36 a run for its money.