Thirty Nine.

Today, I turn thirty nine.

(Happy Birthday to meeee)

I was born at midday on a Friday, thirty nine years ago.

I arrived by c-section, my parents’ first baby.

Nearly forty years ago.

(Happy Mammyversary Mam, Happy Daddyversary Dad)

From today, I’ll be “forty next birthday”, “in my fortieth year”.

The surprising thing is that I am completely at ease with this.

It’s surprising even to me. Because I didn’t especially like turning 23, and had my wedding preparations not been occupying my every thought in May 2005 my 29th would have had a significant impact too.

But now, I have no sense of dread. In fact I think I might actually be looking forward to getting into my 40’s.

Why? Because I feel more at ease with myself that I have ever before I think.

I am grateful for all that I have (except those extra few pounds around my middle, but I’m working on that).

I have a loving (and lovely) husband, beautiful, healthy children, a family that cares, a job I don’t hate.

Sure, I have lumps and bumps, my eyesight could benefit from a few lightsabres (but that’s been the case since I was 10) and my crooked teeth are suddenly irritating me like they never have before. But I’m feeling pretty comfortable in my stretchmarked skin at the moment.

Yes, I have my “wardrobe crises” and  confidence wobbles from time but on the whole, I realise things are OK.

I’ve fought off the grey hairs so far and genetics have been pretty kind to me wrinkle-wise (don’t hate me, blame my Granny). I could certainly make some changes in my life, but on the whole it’s grand.

And I feel sort of, for the first time in ages, that I’ve taken control. That I know where I’m headed, in the short term anyway, and I’m good with that.

Thirty Nine. Forty. They’re only numbers.

I’m thirty nine. Forty next birthday.

And I’m doing fine.

Now, pass the cake.

(Check back in this time next year to see how cool with all this I really am!)

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