I think a lot lately about how I'll age. At (almost) 37, I can say that this whole getting old thing...it's no joke. It's some serious reality. I think some part of me always believed that aging was for other people. So was death, disease, and working for a living. Well, no one says I have to die of cancer, but I do have to die and I haven't found a way to get paid for breathing.

Last night, I participated in a salsa dance contest and I started to wonder if I'm turning into that totally geeky, pathetically unhip English teacher who shamelessly idolized the vibe of the kids he/she taught, but who nobody made fun of because they felt so sorry for him/her.

At least I've managed to cut back on Forever 21 (or Forever 37, as my friends says). However, I can't let go of the super short skirts.

Giant sigh(!)

Just for today, I accept that I'm getting old(er).