Confessions of An Adult Tweenager

birthday moon

Full Moon over the Rocky Mountains November 2014

There was a full moon on my last birthday. A big beautiful glowing pink moon over the Colorado Mountains. I’m NOT a morning person, but something compelled me to barrel out of bed before dawn and catch the sunrise. Couldn’t say why. I just did.

I was ambivalent about this birthday as it’s one away from that number I’m not entirely comfortable with. An age that seemed absolutely ancient when I was in my 20’s; but then again when I was in my 20’s, 38 seemed pretty old too. That thought made me laugh hysterically until tears flowed from my eyes. Then the tears turned into “WTF! When did I get to be this age!?”

I’m too old to party into wee hours of the night. I can’t go to bed without washing my face and lathering on the moisturizer to keep the crowsfeet in check. I can’t wear those sexy little outfits that indicate I’m a carefree spirit; a girl who believes her body will be this firm forever, and believes life is full of possibility and “it’s complicated” is a way of life.

I’m too young to be in bed by 8:00 watching Family Feud. I can’t go to bed without washing my face with an expensive salicylic acid cleanser to keep my zits at bay …followed by the expensive wrinkle serum…..what the…..whatever.   I’m too young to wear knit pants with a matching sweater set and comfortable shoes. I’m not quite yet the woman who is a lover of all things uncomplicated because she knows life is too short for ridiculous drama.

Mature women speak of a time when the phrase “I am who I am, and you can take me or leave me”, becomes crystal clear. I can’t wait to get there because these years of transition are confusing me.  I’m not sure I truly know who I am….

But on that birthday morning, as I sat watching the sun rise on a brand new day on one side of me, and the full moon high and majestic on the other, I realized God was showing me the wonder of being right smack dab in the middle. That the only difference between the beauty of youth and the beauty of age is relatively subtle.

It’s a matter of perspective. And that, my friend, is what they call the beauty of wisdom.

Note* My birthday is in November and I’ve been sitting on this writing for weeks now. I want to give a shout out to one of my favorite bloggers who inspires and entertains me daily. One of her recent topics is not so coincidentally similar, after all, great minds think alike!! She does it much, much better though.

Check out her post at:

http://www.theobserversvoice.com/2015/01/perky-tits-and-neck-waddle-youth-aging-and-not-giving-a-fck/#comment-23491

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