At 33 years old, I begin to wonder how many more “firsts” I have left. I mean big ones, not like “first time I eat oysters (never!)” or first kisses with random boys, but big things. I guess there is first marriage (in theory) and first child (maybe) but I’m not really sure how interested I am in either of these. First house….well, that could be cool, but a TON of responsibility. I feel as though I can only deal with such responsibility should I have ample finances also….nearly as elusive as a husband, but more appealing at this point.
Every day includes some firsts, I supposse. But are they firsts worth mentioning or even acknowledging? I love a party as much as the next gal, but I want to make sure that I don’t overly celebrate everything in my life, which only serves to dilute the real celebrations.
Oh hell, what do I know, at this point I want to make out with a cute boy, play with my dog and have my hair be long enough to put in a pony-tail. Is that really too much to ask?
