Today I turned 29.
Weeks pregnant, that is.
I'm actually turning 34 in 27 days.
34. That's a real adult age. That's one year away from 35, AKA The Deadline. The date I've been working against since I started stalking husbands at age 15.
35 was the dark looming cloud that hung over the edge of the Earth. The only people who knew what lurks on the other side were all old.
If I wasn't married with a couple of kids by the time I was 35 I might as well go ahead and start collecting cats and teaching them how to wipe my 90-year-old ass. Lucky for me that privilege now falls on Ellie's shoulders.
But now that I'm here it's actually not so bad. I have all my friends here with me. And, truth be told, I don't feel any different than when I was 25. The main differences are that I make out with the same guy every night and there's a baby pool in my back yard.
In fact, I think 34 is the new 44. Wow - 44. Yeesh.