Monday was my birthday. I turned 35, fully entrenching myself into an age I could never quite picture. Me? Thirty-FIVE?! I’m the age I used to think was so ooollllddd. As in, orthopedic shoes and beauty shop curls old. But, alas, here I am. I have arrived, people. And while you’ll find no perma-curls on my head, instead, at 35, I’m at the age where:
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