So I'm 32. Ten years ago I decided that twenty years of school was enough to warrant a short break. I'll go to graduate school later, I assured my parents. For now I'm going to see the world. Funny words, "for now..." So ten years ago I packed my bags and took off for Flight Attendant Training. Ten years and I haven't looked back. Or finished graduate school. Sorry Mom.
I still feel 22 and fabulous. And it's all about how you feel, right? And maybe a little bit about the MAC cosmetics and the Botox? And the shoes, of course. But I digress. For ten years now I've been the reluctant recipient of my Alumnae Quarterly Magazine, in which I get to read about my classmates, all of whom seem to have gotten their PhDs while starting their own software company and traveling the globe. And here I can't even find time for a facial. I skipped my 10 year reunion this year, as I was hugely pregnant and looking less than amazing. Suddenly flying somehow didn't sound quite as glamorous as it did ten years ago. Even though, of course it is.
But besides the husband and two kids (and between you and me, about fifteen pounds) I'm still the same person I was at 22. Even better. My car insurance isn't nearly as high.
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