Chicklets, I must start with a disclaimer. Remember how this blog is not about me? Because that would be boring and vain and excruciating? Well, you must grant me an exception in the coming weeks, because I am about to turn 32. And I have been waiting to turn 32 as long as I can remember.
I like to blame/credit fashion magazines. I read them as a preteen. If you are familiar with fashion mags, you will know what I am calling the “woman on the street” feature, usually near the front. They hit the street and they ask “normal” women a question. Could be, “what is the one cosmetic you’d have to have, even if stranded on a desert island?” Could be, “if someone cheats once and is truly sorry, should you give them another chance?”
In my mind the women who answered these questions were always total glamazons with fascinating jobs. They were fashion editors, investment bankers, and chefs. And they were always 32!
Q. What is the desert island cosmetic you cannot live without?
A. “Mascara. Everything else is dispensable, but pale lashes are to be avoided at all costs!” –Samantha, 32, stylist.
Wow!, thought my 12-year-old self. When I’m 32, I’m going to have my shit together. I am going to be a world famous astronomer/writer and live in a castle with my adoring boyfriend who also happens to be the president of France and we will have 12 adopted orphans. And I will NEVER have pale lashes.
Well, Chicklets, I’ve decided that a girl has to make her own milestones in this life. Twenty-one was uneventful. I didn’t mind turning 30. So 32 is coming up, and I don’t live in a castle, and Mr. Mock is an urban planner instead of the president of France. But he speaks French! And I’m not an astronomer (too much math, it turns out) but I am a writer, if not of the famous variety. And I’ll pass on the 12 orphans, but that’s my prerogative. Because I’m soon to be 32!
I’m an antisocial sort, and I can’t think when I last threw a party. Maybe never, unless you count having your girlfriends over for bad movies and fancy drinks. But I’ve decided to throw myself a big old party. And I’m sorry to say that even though this blog is not supposed to be about me, you’re going to be hearing a lot about my 32nd birthday party in the coming weeks.