It's inevitable, birthdays after a certain decade are way better forgotten than celebrated, but then again, it is indeed a perfect excuse for a celebration.
So we go out and indulge in fucking nostalgia, drink a bit more than we planned to and wake up close to dead the next morning.
I want to say this to all my friends who happen to be my contemporaries,
We are magnificent.
We are so much fun and we are so fucking smart and we are so full of life and knowledge.
We know exactly what suits us, we don't need to experiment, we know what sickens our bodies, what foods we won't ever eat, what to keep in our bags, what blush to buy (for the last 10 years) and what brassiere brand to overspend in.
We know what we like to read, we have a radical opinion on things, we have untouchable list of likes and dislikes, we know what we like in bed, we know who we want to hang out with and to whom we won't even give the time of day.
We have done our share of stupidity - and even though we may continue to do so from time to time - we are perfectly aware of that one moment when we are about to take a misstep.
But we say "what the hell", simply because we can.
We are that good.
Women in my life, I adore you, you are all so good looking and perfect in every way.
And thanks again.
(You don't have to worry about my new younger friends, they will never make me laugh as much).