35 (grammer school and Kenny Rogers lessons for life)

I met this beautiful, funny, succesful woman the other day. Instantly my grumpy self was sucked into a lively bad-mood squelching conversation like the ones with my best girlfriends. I was giggling and telling secrets in no time. Maybe because we 'knew of each other' by the public exposure to each other's professional accomplishments. Or maybe she was just one of those likeable and charismatic people that pass through our lives. She might be a real jerk playing "bad cop' but I'd bet the lot that she's all~right.

But for whatever reason, we talked about personal things we (grown women) usually try to hide from casual aquaintences. Anyhow, she shared with me that she spent her 35th bithday having a great time. But inspite, she couldn't stop crying. "What's wrong with me? I've never felt emotional about aging before!"

In my newly 37 year old wisdom, I said it's normal.

35 is worse than forty because no one makes a big deal about it, but it sucker punches each one of us at precisely 35. You heard about 40, so you're ready for climbing over the hill. Plus, even if you don't keep yourself up, you get ego strokes about how amazing you are to be forty. No one wants to upset a woman on the verge of menopause. Compliments are abundant. 40 isn't so bad.

So what's so bad about 35? We should have seen it coming because we learned about it in second grade math. WITH 5, YOU ALWAYS ROUND UP. Up until 34, we were still closer to 20's than 40's! But that damn "rule of 5" just thrust us into 40!!! BUT I"M NOT READY! Wait, just give me more time!

All I can say now is: don't let 35 get to you. I had no better option than to decide (after a couple of good tear-sessions) that it was gonna be alright. Like the awkward teens, 35 goes away. By 36, if you're smart you tidy up the mes that 35 left and you donate all that old baggage to charity. Relief sets in and soon you're feeling you're prime. You stop worrying about pleasing others and really get to know yourself.

Like I always say, "I'm the grass in the back yard, I get cut time after time... but I grow back more lush everytime. And besides: the slap of 40 would hurt a helluva lot worse without the eye-opener called "35"

When you accept aging you accept yourself, flaws and all.

Today a new friend asked me what I was all about. It was all suspicious, something about me wasn't right. It wasn't the first time I've been accused of having a big secret. I've been called an enigma more times than I have toes. It used to bother me, that everyone had to figure me out. I confuse myself all the time. If I don't understand, how can I explicate to another? But confusion aside, I traded ego for honesty and it dawned on me that laying out in the beginning could save us both heartache and time. I told him who I was. Honestly WHO I WAS. It was stunning in it's simplicity. I am who I am. I am always trying to improve. No skelatons here baby! I exposed. I gave the facts. If anything, good or bad about me that got me to 35 was unacceptable, knowing now is priceless because now would be the time to exit. Nothing gained, nothing lost.

By accepting 35 with grace and dignity I could see who I was through my OWN eyes. I was able to forgive, let go, learn, and grow. I was free to understand what I wanted, and confident to accept nothing less. We win, we lose. I know reward necessitates risk. I never had a good poker face, so why try? I like my hand I've been dealt (BECAUSE IT'S MINE) and it's now up to you to hold or fold.