I am so happy to age.

I am 38 years young today and I am thrilled to be aging. Seriously. I was so over 37 like five months ago. I feel like I have a little version of myself in my head tapping my foot and checking my watch waiting and waiting very impatiently for my next birthday.

And not because I’m all about presents and celebrations. I’m more into my next birthday because I love aging. I love putting to rest a year and opening my heart to how it feels to be in this world with a new age. Yes, yes, and age is just a number blah blah blah.

I’ll bask in 38 now that it is FINally here but I know what will happen: Come January I’ll be like, “UGH! Still with 38? We still doin’ this?” and then I’ll roll my eyes and dream about 39.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. And by that I mean let’s not get ahead of myself, Claire.

Why do I like aging so much? I just feel like I am a better and better version of myself as the years go by. Physically I’m more fit this year than ever before. Spiritually I’m more in tune with what’s up than ever before. I’ve learned a heap about myself in the last year which means I’m better or wiser or different.

Thanks to Trader Joe’s for the reminder to all of us.

Would I want to repeat any previous age?

Like age 9 or 17 or how about 28? In the words of Ingrid Michaelson, “…oh, hell no.” My 20s? Geez. My 20s were like so intense and sleepless. I got married. I got divorced. I got pregnant. I had a baby. I decided to place the baby for adoption. I changed my mind. I became a single mom. I got my masters. I breastfed for 3 years. I bought a car. I bought a house. I dated a guy. I dated another guy. I dated more guys. I ran my first marathon. Then I ran 6 more marathons. I lived in a dorm, an apartment, a townhouse in Australia, my parent’s house, a condo in Alaska, the basement of a church, the basement of a family’s house, my first house, my second house, my third house. I traveled to Turkey. I started writing a novel. I started my own business.

This list immediately makes me want to take a nap. You?

Would I like to repeat the decade of my 20s?

Again: no. Am I regretful about anything from life before 38? No way! I love my life…all the crazy mixed up with all the goodness. That is an abundant life, right? If everything was great and smooth and ideal all the time I’d be all: yawn. I just don’t pine for the past. Plus it doesn’t exist anymore anyway.

During my headshot shoot where I get in touch with my eye wrinkles.

Being a model, aging comes up a lot on set with other models. I often wish I’d gotten started earlier in modeling. (Though, honestly, maybe it is better I didn’t. Goodness knows there was barely time in the last 18 years to have a complete thought let alone start a modeling and acting career.)

The conversations about aging are all around what women don’t like about their skin or eyes or hands or hair or neck or stomach or legs or veins. I just can’t easily join in. Not that I’m some kind of amazing person that I don’t have curiosities about my body (because I do) however…I kinda like the wrinkles forming around my eyes. I’m interested in the one awesomely wiry gray hair that sprouts deep under my hair. I freaked out when it came out in my hand because it looked so awesome and bright nestled in my brunette locks. I don’t think I’ll work too hard to anti-age because does it really work? And even if it did, why does aging get such a bad wrap?

So, to celebrate my day of birth and the 38+ rotations I’ve done around our planet’s big, bright star, of course I’m making a list of goals and wishes for myself. How about 38 of them? Ugh, it is so predictable. Just accept it.

(But don’t forget that today I’m actually celebrating that I have lived 38 years and I’m starting my 39^th year. YES! Which means one year closer to 40 which means life is getting really delicious right now.)

38 goals for 38 years.

1. Wear hats more because they’re stylish.
2. Breathe before responding to crabby people (myself include).
3. Get rid of more clothes, because: too much.
4. Walk Velvet more.
5. Go to movies, for the love.
6. Just write. Anything. Every day. Even one sentence.
7. Stop rolling my eyes so much.
8. Write letters and decorate the envelopes.
9. Blog like a mother.
10. Comb Harold’s hair more often (like bi-monthly).
11. Hike the Superior Hiking Trail with Gloria.
12. Go to New York to visit Peter.
13. Read books like way more frequently.
14. Up my acting game.
15. Actually meditate, don’t just think about meditating.
16. Add a new lifting regime to my workout.
17. Chill out on the carbonated water that makes me burpy.
18. Cook meals from my favorite cookbook, don’t just look at the pictures.
19. Call friends on the phone and ask how they’re doing.
20. Take a ballet class again.
21. Obtain more awesome long-term clients for CICADA.
22. Go on more dates with my man.
23. Hang at museums.
24. Wake up earlier.
25. Take more naps.
26. Give more time and energy to organizations I love.
27. Learn about my neighbors.
28. Plant a new garden.
29. Write gratitude lists next to grocery lists.
30. Stop looking at my phone at stoplights.
31. Learn a new braid for Gloria’s hair.
32. Write more to my community’s leaders (for thanks and change).
33. Simplify my email inbox.
34. Don’t be so hard on myself.
35. Be calm.
36. Stay at home more.
37. Print more pictures.
38. Dance and dance and dance.

Maybe you want to do a few of these things with me this year?

Happy birthday!

Love,

Me.