It’s hard to believe my baby sister Brie is twenty-three today.
No one likes working on her birthday. Especially when most people have the day off. But my boss is infamous for not closing the office on federal holidays (Columbus Day, MLK Day, President’s Day…the list goes on), so I just had to deal.
Still, I had a good birthday. I’m thankful for the amazing people in my life. Here’s to hoping twenty-six is as great as twenty-five was!
in two hours, you turn twenty-six
(four years from thirty, not that you’re counting).
when your mother points out the “flaws” in your figure,
(breasts that can’t be contained by button-up shirts
& hips that never widened during puberty)
laugh & remember that
her spitefulness is only rivaled by her jealousy.
when you trip in front of the crowd
on the train platform & feel twelve again
(the era of an almost mullet & headgear)
look in the mirror & remember that
you’re not an awkward tween.
when a former party friend suggests
that falling in love rendered you weak,
(being the instigator of wild times
was the mark of a badass)
roll your eyes & remember that
you found strength in accepting yourself.
you are (permanently) a work in progress.
Three birthdays ago, Andrea, Shaina, and the Wolf Pack celebrated my twenty-third birthday with me in Atlanta. We stayed in a hotel in Buckhead (down the street from my office, where I didn’t work at the time). After dinner, we went clubbing in midtown.
The night ended with us ordering an obscene amount of food from a diner that didn’t deliver. We were too drunk to go pick up our order & passed out. The next morning, we woke up to several messages letting us know that our food was ready.
There are sixteen days until I turn twenty-six. Twenty-five was an awesome year. I’m hoping that twenty-six is even better. I’m not one to panic about getting older. Like a good scotch, I get better with age.