I just celebrated a birthday. Not a big one, an almost big one. 39. One year until the (what I’m told should be) dreaded 4-0. But…I’m not dreading 40. I’m looking forward to my 40s. After all, it’s the new 30s, right? (I don’t know what that really means, but all the glossy magazines I’m too self-righteous to buy make it seem like a good thing.) My 20s were trying to be who I thought I should. My 30s have been figuring out who I want to be. My 40s are going to be showing who I truly am. The thing is, I’ve decided I truly am a brilliant, hysterically funny, hot as hell, rich, successful philanthropist. If I’m going to be showing that version of me when I turn 40, I really better get to work in the next year!
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