41 minus 20: Pre-birthday thoughts

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A friend sent a note yesterday that I need not dread tomorrow’s 41st birthday. It is, after all, the 20th anniversary of my 21st birthday.

While it would be lovely to still be that fresher, slimmer version of me, let me tell you that I celebrated the ability to imbibe legally in a college town where it is tradition to give the girls free shots on their 21st. I partook. With nothing but dry toast in my gut for dinner.

Can we say un poquito estupida?

I woke up the next morning and asked my roommate why I remembered little more than the color peach. Well, the kind soul she was had hung my sloshed face over a peach-colored towel and removed the gas permeable contact lenses from my head herself. Can you imagine the love and work that took? It’s hard enough to get those suckers out yourself. (I’m all happily Lasik-ed now, by the way…)

Another friend later told me he stood in the living room and told the rest of the group that “I was never here, OK?” That was just in case I died. Nice, huh? I’m still friends with him and despite that really tepid heart of his, I love him.

Can I get a really huge AMEN for NOT being 21?

Smarter is better.