Happy Birthday to me! It’s my birthday today and I have no shame in telling the world that.
I think I may be breaking some female code telling people my age, but I’m 32 today. I don’t really understand why some women feel so ashamed to tell others how old they are or why the they feel the need to lie about their age, at least not in this day and age. I relish getting older. Don’t get me wrong, I still wish I had the body I had when I was 22, but I don’t see how lying about my age is going to get me that. Maybe a few more sit-ups would get me closer though.
I’m going to work today and I’m regretting not asking for the day off. I would spend most of the morning on the computer on twitter and FB, and then go shopping for some new jeans (most of my jeans now have holes in them where my thighs rub together).
I hate shopping for new jeans. First of all, I hate they way manufacturers label sizes. I’m a 9 with some brands and a 17 with others. Why can’t those people just standardize on one sizing convention? I wouldn’t care if it said I was a size 23 if it would just remain constant. Okay, I get why. I know some women do care about what size they are; they want to be able to tell people they are a size 6, even if that means the waist size is actually 40 inches.
While we’re on the topic of numbers, I’m 168 pounds right now. Lying or not telling people how much I weigh is not going to make me look any different either. Sure, I don’t like the way I look and I want to loose weight, but that’s not going to stop me from telling people how much I weigh. It’s just a number. I just have to eat less junk food and exercise more.
Okay, maybe when it comes to exercise the number does matter. Doing 10 push ups is probably better than doing 1.