by Elizabeth Spannuth
I turned 39 on Tuesday and in the weeks leading up to my birthday I was having mixed feelings about it. Typically, I don’t mind getting older, because I enjoy the mental journey. I am fond of saying “I miss my 20 year old body, but I don’t miss my 20 year old mind.” But being the birthday before the big 4-0, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I don’t have the trappings that society associates with my age group, such as a spouse, home ownership, a lucrative job at a big name company, and kids. I have a long-term boyfriend, live in a rented house, have a job at a start-up and have a dog and a cat. Not to say that these things aren’t great, because they are; I am thankful for them and I am confident in my choices. But society has a way of telling you those things aren’t good enough and every so often my ego agrees and feels the need to by for a visit and let me know… Conventional thinking asserts that you must make your union legal, own things and procreate, preferably in that order. (The best example of this was given to me by my sister. The majority of time that she lived in Texas she was a 30-something single woman. She would tell me stories of how married people again and again would ask her things like “why are you STILL single?” and “why don’t you have any kids?” while eyeing her as though she were defective.)
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