I’ve griped about my age for a while now. I finally came to the conclusion that I don’t actually hate being as old as I am, but this particular decade just hasn’t been gentle 😅 Two straight years of miscarriages took us straight into covid, which was the summer where Brady’s first tumour started to rear its ugly head. Yikes, guys. Yikes.
This year in particular, I hit 38. I don’t like that 8 in there. Its awfully close to the 9 that comes right before the next milestone – 40. Whew! Don’t look TOO far ahead, I know, but I’ve been feeling quite old, as in worn, lately.
Yesterday, Cher and I were talking about our ages. She is 36 and I’m 38. And we came to the conclusion that she is in her late mid-thirties, and I’m in my early late-thirties 🤣 What denial?
Aaaaanyway, you’re welcome for the new way to count your age out. Courtesy of these two who clearly still got it, even in their late mids and early lates 😎
