Working on It

Turning 28 at the end of the summer will put me square into my late twenties. I imagined once that my late twenties would be full of knowledge and freedom and kids while still rocking an amazing body. While it is true that I'm smarter than I was at 18, freedom comes with bills and my rock hard abs are hiding beneath a layer of stubborn fat. I also figured I'd have children by now, because when you decide you want kids you just have them and you're done, right?! I thought I'd have a highly successful career without all those damn worries of an 18-year-old.
I could skip lunch for 3 days when I was 18 and lose 6 pounds. I could run out of money and call my mom. I could create undying amounts of drama in my life in order to spice things up a bit and still have friends in the morning. I could drink 28 beers, 4 shots, and get high and still make it to my 9:30am tennis class on Thursdays. No shoes were too expensive and no skirt too short. Skin cancer, skin shmancer, I'm getting a tan.
Am I glad to be turning 28? Sure. And I certainly don't have any regrets; I've lived a quite charmed and lovely life. But 28 sure does put 18 into perspective...