Normally a few months before I turn another year older, I start to adopt my new age in my thoughts. Rather than think of my current age, I think, “I’m almost #.”

Not this time.

37 just blows my mind. Of course, 27 blew my mind. I had less trouble turning 30 than I did 27.

It’s that 7. It’s the official end of the “mid.” I am now in my “late thirties”

WOWSERS!

I am really working on staying positive. My brain says, “You are 37 and unmarried, without children: you are a loser.” But then I counter with, “Yes, but I started a business, wrote a book, bought a house on my own, live a fulfilling life and ANSWER TO NO ONE! So there!”

And honestly, if marriage and children were so important to me, I’d have them. Clearly, deep inside, I don’t care that much.

It’s not worth fretting over age. The only alternative to aging is death.