Tomorrow is my birthday and I'm feeling a little weird about it.
This is the first age that's really hit me in the mortality, and I'm a little uncomfortable with being this close to forty. I mean, I'd be lucky to be 40, and 50, and 110, aging is inevitable, sickness or accident can take any of us at any time, and immortality would be a huge bummer, anyway. But at forty there is absolutely no girlishness left to most women - in truth it disappears for most of us in our early thirties - and by forty, almost every one of us is a grown-ass adult woman without a bone of naivete in our bodies.
Again, this isn't necessarily a bad thing, and I have been really enjoying the confidence that comes with knowing my own mind and not feeling so much pressure to perform femininity in the way younger women are sort of required to. I had some good times in my twenties, and yes, my thirties have definitely been harder to enjoy, but I have definitely lived them, and I'm sure my forties will be nothing but not interesting; but I do wish I had more time.
For example, I'm not quite ready to have kids, but could see it in my future. Unfortunately there's an expiration date looming over my uterus that I suddenly have to be thinking about. I could adopt, of course, but I don't like having my options taken away, when I'm not even done deciding if I want to use them.
So today, the day before my 36th birthday, I've spent some energy in the kitchen and made myself a vegan quiche and a bunch of dolmas, so even if I'm not able to go out tomorrow for the ideal beach and lunch experience, it will still be a relaxed and happy day with plenty of good food to help me appreciate and celebrate my life, however I'm able to live it.