(I may or may not be exaggerating more than slightly).
This past Saturday was my twenty- sixth birthday. 26. Veintiséis. No matter how many times or however many languages that I say it, it still sounds so strange to me.
I'm twenty- six. No longer classified as early twenties and certainly creeping up on that thirty mark much sooner than what I expected. Am I still considered mid- twenties or is that reserved for twenty- five year olds only?! I was twenty- five practically a cough ago, so come on guys, cut me some slack!!
The strangest thing about all of this is that I don't feel twenty- six. Or, I may feel twenty- six and I just haven't realized it yet. I'm not sure, because I've never been this old before. I wrote a letter to a friend of mine the day after my birthday and told him that it's funny. It's funny that I am eight years past eighteen, but still feel exactly like I did then (with slightly more back pain).
But in any event, age is a state of mind and luckily for me, I have and forever will be a little old lady at heart. And you might not see it now, but ask anyone that knows me or has known me for any amount of time and they will tell you that I've always had little ole lady tendencies (and not just because I like to keep hard candy and tissues in my purse).
And now here I am. Twenty- six and some odd days old. Somewhere between feeling eighteen and eighty- seven. I celebrated with Momma's chili and cake. And all was good (the chili, cake, and day in general).