It’s my birthday tomorrow and I’m turning the big 2-5. Quarter century club, if you will.
And as my time of being a young, 24 year old winds down, I find myself not sad to be another year older, but excited. Happy. Hopeful. You see, I think there are really good things ahead. Great things, even. Less time spent worrying about that cellulite dimple(s) I just can’t seem to get rid of. Whether or not my career is going exactly the way it should and maybe I should ditch the corporate climb to become a dolphin trainer at Sea World. If my love life is on track for the white picket fence with two kids and a dog.
Because, well….cellulite? Everybody’s got it. And if they don’t? I bet they got another insecurity just as big. The career? I’m in a great place right now. But at the same time, yes, I really did grow up wanting to become a dolphin trainer at Sea World. Or a fighter pilot. Or the first ever female Navy SEAL. I was a weird kid. True story. And it’s never too late to go for it. My love life…who knows? Half the fun is in not knowing. Maybe I’ll get married a year from now, or ten years from now, or never….but I am a firm believer that life unravels exactly as it should — I’m just along for the ride. And if the past 24 years are any indication of what lies ahead, then it’s going to be one hell of a journey.
In the spirit of birthdays and parties and all things fabulous, these are the types of parties that dance around in my dreams. And if one of you lovelies decided to throw me one of these gorgeous shin digs for my birthday, I wouldn’t be the tiniest bit upset about it.
A sprinkles party. Why am I craving a sprinkles party? No clue. I hate sprinkles. But it just looks so festive and fun:
Or maybe a gorgeous al fresco luncheon like the one my fab friend Carina threw her equally fab twin sister for her bridal shower (full disclosure: I’m biased because these girls are two of my closest friends and I happen to think they walk on water. I’m also in this picture, in the top right corner…reaching for the pizza):
Or a wine + cheese party? Yeah, yum. I’m in.
A backyard pizza party? That’s got my name written all over it:
So. Feel free to throw me any or all of the above soirees. It’s not too much to ask for, right?
Oh, and uh, don’t forget the cake.
To all my friends and family who have made my life so full of laughter and love, thank you. Here’s to the next chapter.
“She went around saying bonjour and bongiorno as though she owned both France and Italy and the day itself.”