Holy Crap! I'm Half Way to 70!

I'M TOO YOUNG TO BE 35!

I was really kind of excited to turn 35--it seemed like such a respectable age. Thirty-five is when it is all supposed to come together. Right? Wasn’t the whole cast of Friends and Sex & the City thirty-five? It has to be an enviable age. Alas, when I awoke yesterday morning the first thought in my 35 year-old head was that when I was in my mid-20s, I used to look at my 35 year old friend and think, "Wow, she looks pretty good for being that old." If I could go back in time, I would go punch twenty-something year old me right in the throat. I was definitely stupid in my twenties. Wisely, two men who work on the compound and one resident of the guesthouse wished me the happiest of birthdays and exclaimed that it is impossible for me to be a day over 25. I agreed.

So, my milestone birthday was spent with some fabulous thirty-something girlfriends. Our evening included: luscious martinis made with espresso and Sambuca, six orders of dessert throughout the night, and a new standard for laughing-till-the-martini-comes-out-your-nose-good-times. Each woman brought as a birthday offering the description of a single man they think I should meet...Ahhh, the birthday gods were pleased. By the end of the night, I laughed so hard that I felt like I had done 15 sets of crunches and had botox injected into my cheeks mid-smile. As my friend dropped me off, we agreed that every birthday from this day forward must be filled with the same level of merriment or else there needs to be a do-over. All-in-all, I highly recommend that everyone try turning 35 at least once.