Age

42

Why is it that we count our years of age, anyway? I mean we know our birthdate. D’uh. We have a birth certificate and crap. And we can celebrate on the anniversary of that date every year, if we like — there’s no sense not having a party with cake and ice cream. But why...

Year Forty and One

So, I’ve been forty-one for a couple of months now and I would’ve thought that I’d hate it. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t love the number, but now that I’m realizing how much of my response to that number comes from what men have told me (men who have decided that they’re still...

It’s My Birthday and I’ll Whine If I Want To

I’m a totally reasonable person. I try not to get hung up on petty or trivial things. I take pride in the fact that I don’t really care what celebrities are wearing or who anyone is sleeping with. The things that tend to really upset me have more to do with civil rights, health care,...