Old Boobs

Before I start, let me preface with this statement: I am fully aware that 27 isn’t that old. To some of you, I may still be a young whipper snapper. However, it’s hard not to feel a wee bit… seasoned…. when I’ve pulled 2 gray hairs in the last month and have been carded for liquor fewer times than that in the last year. My 10 year high school reunion is next spring and my firstborn son will graduate with the class for, gulp, 2030! Maybe CPT Fromage’s new nickname for me (“Old Boobs”… he means that lovingly... I hope!) isn’t that far off.

Nah, really, it’s not so bad. 27 is my favorite number for one thing, and besides, I feel like I’ve done a lot in the last little while…

I’ve spent the last 5 years building a relationship with my best friend and this year we’re starting our own family. I don’t have a 9-5 job or career that comes with a 401K, but I contribute to my IRA every month, we’re financially stable with some spending money in our pockets and I’m about to start my dream job: Stay at home mom. A far cry from the frozen dinners and take out in my “younger years”, I’m cooking homemade meals almost every night, even mastering dishes like duck and salmon and I finally own some cookware, dishes and small appliances I can be proud of; heck, I even have my own china and silver serving set! In the last few years, seeing as I finally feel more like a grown up, I’ve started treating myself to the finer things in life – better beauty products (No more 98 cent Suave shampoo), professional hair coloring now and then instead of a box of L’Oreal and even an expensive bottle of perfume. Part of me will never grow up; I still enjoy young adult fiction once in a while and I can’t sleep without my stuffed cow, Sir Loin (See, mom! I didn’t grow out of it!) and I will forever have a love of boxed macaroni and cheese. Some things never change.

Nope, 27 isn’t so bad (but I sure could do without those gray hairs! As soon as Baby Fromage makes his big appearance, I’m making a salon appointment!)

Happy birthday to me! CPT Fromage took me to a Motown musical dinner theater this weekend, where we had a BLAST! Baby Fromage even treated me when he finally rearranged himself so he’s not in the most uncomfortable position possible. Thanks, guys!