Today is my 39th birthday. Except for the fierce snowstorm outside, it pretty much feels like an ordinary day. Which is fine, because this is only 39. But next year, for my 40th birthday, I want bells and whistles. A trip to Paris, something major.
Because I have looked forward to turning 40 ever since I was in my twenties. Sounds a little crazy, I know. Maybe it's because I've always felt older than my age. I've seen and experienced a lot in my life, and it's made me want to bypass the fluff to get to what really matters. Rose-colored hues turned to a jolting black & white early for me.
40. I believe it's when a woman reaches a certain peak in her life of Security. Stability. Knowing her own mind. Being less apologetic. Speaking with authority and confidence and grace. To me, a woman is incredibly beautiful at 40. The gentle lines on her face speak of knowledge, experience and living. There's a vulnerability and strength there, a lioness versus a cute cub. And it gets better from 40 on. So I will celebrate every day of being 39, enjoying the path that leads me to 40.