You Say It's Your Birthday?

... It's my birthday too! Well, okay, it's tomorrow (shoutout to Meg, my b-day sharing buddy!). Whereupon I will officially enter the last year of my '20s. And, like, OMG! How is it that I've gotten to be 29 and still feel like a dumb bumbling kid sometimes? I feel ridiculous to label myself a "woman" because to me, women are pulled-together. They've got direction, they're getting things done, they're self-assured, they're mature. I, on the other hand, have no idea what I'm doing half the time, can get lost turning a corner (I'm serious, y'all) and think toilet humor is funny. That doesn't sound like any "woman" I envision. I'm an adult in that I can legally drink, vote, and order things off the TV (you know, because "you must be 18 to call"). But in my mind, it pretty much stops there. Even though no one considers me a kid any more, and I've even got kids of my own to screw up raise, I don't feel like I imagine a 29-year-old should feel. It's like I'm walking in boots that are too big for me, ya dig?

So when will I ever feel grown up? Will I hit some magical age - say, 30 maybe - where I think I'm right where I should be? Or does that only happen to the rare and lucky few whose lives have, in fact, gone exactly as planned?

I do know one thing, speaking of plans: I'm gonna do my best to make my 29th year the most awesome year EVER. Because sadly, for numerous reasons I won't bore you with here, my 28th year has been the worst of my life. And I'm sick of it. So as soon as I pop this baby boy out (send labor vibes!), I'm on a mission to fulfill the name of my blog once and for all and stop the terrifying descent into full-time frumpiness. I'm bringing sexy back, for real. Just you watch.

You need inspiration? Allow me.

I promise.



But first ... birthday cake.