Two. Eight.

It’s my birthday.

Yesterday I went to a crazy yoga class that would be “so LA” if it wasn’t “so India.” They keep the room at like, a million degrees, so you sweat the entire time. And just when you’re finally ready to kill someone for getting you to work out in a sauna for an hour and a half, they make you do these rapid breathing exercises. Then you’re high and light-headed and giddy. Then you can’t kill, because you can no longer feel your fingertips.

So I walked across the street to the pharmacy afterwards. I was drenched in sweat, head to toe, and figured I’d see if this place carried the Certain Dri everybody raved about. They did.

I handed her the deodorant, drops of sweat falling onto her counter. She looked at me and laughed.

“I know,” I said. “I’m ridiculous.”

She pointed at the woman next to her. “She takes that class, too. She looks like you when she’s finished.”

“Well, the box says ‘For excessive perspiration.’”

“That class is crazy.”

“It’s pretty tough,” I agreed.

“Hey,” she said, nodding. “At least you’re getting out there. Doing something.”

What exactly did that mean?

Oh, crap. I’m 28. When did that happen? You guys remember when I was just twenty-four? Wasn’t I cute?

Oh, crap. Twenty eight?

Jessica and I were talking the other day about making the word “thirty” sound sexy instead of insulting. We wanted to make our age range sound young and fun.

“Oh, man. Look at you! That’s so…thirty.”

“I can’t believe I did all that last night. What am I, thirty?”

“I was just giggling all over him like I was twenty-eight.”

“Who’s your daddy? You thirty girl.”

“Damn, girl. You are lookin’ fifty today, if you know what I’m sayin’.”

“Who’s thirty-two? You, baby. You. Aw, yeah.”

“Shit, girl. You’re old enough to have at least two babies!”

“Do these jeans make me look thirty?”

Twenty-eight. Rhymes with Pretty-Great.

Here’s hoping.

Currently reading

Pretending the Bed is a Raft. Well, now, why would this tiny paperback cost $19.00? That makes no sense. I got it at the wonderful Katy Budget Books, home of all my teenage page-turning, and one of my favorite places in the world.

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