How I Skipped 67% of My 27th Year.

Now before you judge, just remember you love me and come read me regularly and normally I totally have my shit together{ish} except that one time, but anyway I really did skip 67% of my 27th year and I've decided that I want it back.  I think I deserve it back.  Don't you?  Oh, and also, I swear in this post.  Kind of a lot.  It is pretty necessary when you see what I did.

Let me start from the beginning.  A few years ago, we're sitting at my Meme's house for Christmas and my Aunt Sue asks me something about my age and I tell her something about how I was ok with turning thirty in two years.  How I'm ok with 28 and being in the twilight of my twenties.  Here is {my best recollection of} the conversation that followed:

Dave:  You're not 28.

Michelle:  Yes, I am.

Dave:  No, you're not.

Michelle:  Dumbass, I'm pretty sure I know how old I am!

Dave:  Well, you don't.  You're 27.

Michelle:  Dave, I know how old I am.  I am 28.

Dave:  Yeah, well, except you're 27.

Michelle:  You are fucking crazy!  I am 28! 

Dave:  No, you're not.  You're 27.

Michelle:  Meme!  Where is your calculator so I can show him.

Dave:  Yeah, go get the calculator. 

Michelle:  I will!  *Runs in the kitchen and furiously punches in 2003 - 1976*  27 Crap.  I had to have typed it in wrong.  *Punch punch punch 2003 - 1976*  Still 27.  Fuck.  I am 27.

Dave:  You're 27, aren't you?

Michelle:  Yeah.  But, I've been telling people I'm 28 since my birthday!  EIGHT MONTHS, I've been telling people I am 28.  That's like the whole year!

Dave:  But now you can tell people that you're 27.


So that's what I did.  Just told everyone for the rest of the year, the whole 4 months I had left, that I was 27.  But, I had to punch the date into the calculator tonight because I thought, oh crap, am I turning 35 next year?  {I'm not, I'm turning 34.}  Typing the date in reminded me that I still missed EIGHT months of my 27th year.  So, here is what I propose... I think I should be able to tell people for the next eight months that I am 27.  I mean, ok, so I am not a spring chicken and I'm not getting any younger, if I am going to take it back, now is the time.  After all, a 27 year old who is fifty is just pathetic.

Think about it, for eight months, my husband could have a younger woman.  I could be younger than all most of my friends.  I would be in my TWENTIES!  Plus, plus, aaaaaand plus!  What do you think of my master plan?

Happy Monday!  Oh, and if you haven't done so, get your butt over to my little giveaway and ENTER!  The drawing is tomorrow.