Body drama

I'm a girl in America who has struggled with weight and size and all that those things encompass my entire life ... so there's naturally a lot of body drama.

Almost every day.

It's getting a bit better. I've got a closetful of fabulous clothes that I'm trying to be brave enough to wear more often ... and I'm not obsessively bonding with my bathroom scale lately (this, however, is more out of fear than liberation ... I pretty much just don't want to know or am afraid to know what it says these days ...).

And then I got this little bit of hope (and help) from msn.com today.

I'm not in a relationship, but I think that if, in the future, I am in one, I can quit freaking out that he might be as obsessed with my figure as I am.

Phew! I ate a doughnut in celebration of newfound joy and freedom. I still feel guilty about it, but I'm working on that, too. Dougnuts are allowed. So is walking them off.

In completely unrelated news, I have decided that the birthdays end this year. The numbered ones, at least. I can party every June, but I will never be older than 29.

"Great," Matt said when I told him this on the phone today (I got an early birthday call from Australia!! My brother's so cool ...). "I'll be able to catch up with you now."

"Yes," I said, "and then I'll let you get older than me. Finally!"

So Saturday is my First 29th. Next year will be my Second 29th, for those of you who feel I must still count my birthdays in some fashion.

Granted, I may change my mind. Thirty may seem a less depressing number as I work my way through this year. But it seems so sad to be leaving my 20s. It's maybe not as bad as when I was 12 and about to become a teenager (I was quite traumatized by that), or 19, about to leave my teens forever (as traumatic as being a teenager seemed when I was 12, being 20 seemed positively formidable when I was 19). But I can't help but feel a little like I did when I was 12. Only now, I can't fling myself on my parents' bed and wail about how I don't wanna grow up. I still don't wanna, but I think I manage to put on a good illusion most of the time.

Part of it is that, when I was little at Heritage Christian School and looking at all those high schoolers and adults, they were so, well ... tall, and they looked and seemed and acted so smart and so ... together. And I kept thinking, "Someday, when I'm grown up, I'll have it all figured out. I'll know what to do. I'll be an adult, and adults know everything."

I should have started suspecting when I got to high school. First, I didn't feel tall enough to be in high school (they had all been at least 10 feet tall when I was in kindergarten). And I was certain I wasn't smart enough to be a high schooler. Maybe at the end of high school ... but no, that wasn't any more reassuring. I distinctly remember, at our graduation ceremony, thinking that I wasn't old enough or mature enough to be marching down that aisle and getting that diploma.

After college? Nope.

Now?? Certainly not.

My friends have got kids now, and we sit in their living rooms on their sofas, clutching cups of coffee, whispering to each other about how deceptive all the adults in our lives have been. They didn't have a clue!

And they faked it so well!

We survived our childhoods and lived to start families of our own. We have jobs, houses, apartments, property, life insurance policies and 401(k) accounts. Some of us don't even know what a 401(k) is ... but we have them. We talk about upcoming surgeries and swap recipes. And we still ... we still have no idea what we're doing.

So here's to faking it ... and to being 29 until I get it all figured out enough to be a 30-something.