When I turned 27, (27! for crying out loud) I felt that my life was over. At 27, I thought all of the good things had all come to pass and from that point on it was downhill. How can someone feel that way IN THEIR TWENTIES?!?! And not only that, but how could I feel that way? How could I feel OLD at 27? You're only as old as you feel, right? Slowly - and with help from friends - I braved through those few months of self-pity. And realized life was just beginning.
Now I relish in the fact that I'm in my late twenties. Hell, depending on how you calculate it, I'm already out of my 20s and in my 30th year. And I have wrinkles, gray hair, and flab. "So what?" I demand! I found another gray hair the morning of my 29th birthday - and I laughed. Out loud. I get more wrinkles every day and that's a-okay with me. (Well, okay, I would be lying if I said the one in between my eyebrows - the one that makes me look mad even when I'm not - didn't bother me a little bit....) I'm never going to have the body of an 18-year-old again. But, surprise, I'm not 18. And I have three beautiful children to show for it.
Life is what you make of it. I want to be one of those women who age as gracefully as they live. So I wear glitter when I get dressed up. I play tea party with my girls. And as I softly stroke my husband's graying sideburns, I smile, knowing I've got some silver too. And 29 is good.