Yes, I’m Getting Older.

cheers 🥂

Yes, I’m getting older.

That’s not an insult to me. That’s not a revelation. That’s not something you’re clocking that I haven’t already clocked myself.

That was the goal.

Because let’s be real for half a second.

Who the fuck wants to die young?

I’m sitting here right now at a good 38, coffee in my hand, red nails fresh. I just caught a glimpse of my reflection in my computer screen while typing this and I literally thought, damn bitch… you look good. Like really good. Calm. Put together. Comfortable in your skin.

In a minute, I’m going to finish typing this, record a gym haul, and then head to the gym. Not rushing. Not stressed. Just living my life how I want to live it.

That’s the part people don’t get.

I am this woman because I made it to this age.

I think the way I think because I’ve lived long enough to know better.

I move the way I move because I’ve experienced life, not just talked about it.

I’m comfortable saying what I want, doing what I want, and living how I want because clarity comes with time.

That’s what aging does when you actually learn from it.

I’m about to be 39. Call it thirty fine. Call it forty loading. Either way, I’m standing in it comfortably. People guess I’m younger all the time, not because I’m trying to look young, but because I’m not weighed down. I’m not fighting my life. I’m not pressed.

And let’s stop pretending that you don't know....

Bills are on autopay.

Money is in the bank.

There’s a car in the garage.

There’s a passport ready if I decide I want to leave the country tomorrow.

That didn’t happen by accident. That happened because I had time to figure shit out. Because I didn’t rush my life. Because I learned from my mistakes instead of repeating them.

I’ve traveled the world. I’ve seen how other people live. I’ve seen what matters and what doesn’t. I’ve had money and I’ve been without it. I learned from both. Right now, I’m comfortable.

Not struggling. Not scrambling. Comfortable.

And healthy. I don’t gloss over that. I know people my age and younger who can’t just get up and go. People slowed down by their bodies. People trapped by responsibilities they rushed into. People stuck financially or emotionally.

I’m not.

That alone makes every year a blessing.

So when someone who is unhappy with their own life tries to shame me for my age, I don’t internalize it.

I clock it.

Some people get older and feel like life is closing in on them.

I get older and feel like life keeps opening up.

That difference isn’t magic. It’s choices plus time.

I’m confident because I’ve lived long enough to trust myself.

I’m selective because I’ve learned what chaos costs me.

I’m soft because I’m safe enough to be.

That’s not arrogance. That’s maturity.

I didn’t rush my life to keep up.

I didn’t settle just to say I had something.

I didn’t stop enjoying my body, my beauty, or my freedom because a number changed.

I used my age the way you’re supposed to.

As a teacher.

As a tool.

As a lesson.

So no, my age does not limit me.

My age explains me.

It explains my confidence.

It explains my peace.

It explains my lifestyle.

It explains why I’m unbothered.

If getting older scares you, just say that.

If watching someone thrive at this stage makes you uncomfortable, sit with that.

Me? I’m proud I made it here.

Yes, I’m getting older.

That was the goal.

Because again…who the fuck wants to die young?