I'm almost older than dirt.

Today is my birthday. I am 36. I am freaking out about being closer to 40 than 30. My mother is also freaking out about having a child closer to 40 than 30 because that means she's almost older than dirt, too. I'm really more melancholy than freaked out about the whole thing. But you know, they say 40 is the new 30, so I guess I'm really only 26. OK, I can deal with that. I only wish I still had the same body from when I was 26, which would have been pre-baby body. I miss pre-baby body. Pre-baby body didn't have saggy pelvic skin. Pre-baby body didn't have stretch marks. Pre-baby body was firm and tight. Oh, God, pre-baby body why have you abandonded me? Why? Why? Why? Ok, that's enough of the self-pity. My daughter gave me $1,000,000,000 for my birthday, so that's pretty good. Now I can pay for my tummy tuck. That's, of course, after I pay for my daughter's no-expense-spared trip to Disney World. Then, I'm allowed to do whatever I want with what's left and that's straight from the horse's mouth.

Actually, I don't mind being my age as long as I don't look my age. And since both my parents look younger than they are, I'm feeling like I won the DNA jackpot on this one. My mom turns 60 this year, but looks about 45 and my father is 64, but looks about 56. So I'm in like flint. I'm happy to accept any gift you might feel inclined to send. But dream vacations and a role in the next Harry Potter film work well also. Be creative, I say. Actually, if you could hook me up with a celebrity make-up artist to make me look exactly the way I should look if I had lots of money and a personal trainer, that would be AWESOME.