I use to love my birthday. When I was young I thought the school's chose to be off the week of March 20th so I wouldn't have to go to school on my birthday. Wow, what a narcissistic kid. But when I got a little older I realized I was just lucky. And I loved having my birthday on the first day of spring (according to which calendar you look at). I felt special. Now it's just another day. My mom and sister are really the only ones who celebrate it, but this year it's a very sad one for me. I wanted to be a mom by the age of 38. But I will mourn this and move on. I will embrace being an older mother when the time comes. Besides, having a child at this age will help keep me young - right? Or so the theory goes. And the walking thing - eh, been doing okay. Nothing to write home about or no cause to place a celebratory ad in the paper. Bella keeps me walking though, it's good for her and good for me. It's funny, I have always been afraid to write my thoughts down. Someone might think me crazy or unwell, but getting them out of me makes me feel lighter. If you're out there reading this I hope it makes you laugh or at least know you are not alone.
Sometimes its okay to close your eyes and ignore what's in front of you; especially when you are standing in front of the mirror didn't get enough sleep the night before.
TaTa, for now. Hope March brings you much joy and peace!
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