When A Woman Is 35, She's Not Really 35 At All

You're 11 and you have small breasts. You're 31 and you have laugh lines.

Why It Takes Years To Find Out Who You Are Mizin Roman / Shutterstock
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At 35, you aren't really 35. You're actually 25, and you're a bride — loved up and pink each morning.

And you're 12, and you there's fresh blood on your fingers.

You're 11 and you have small breasts.

You're 31 and you have laugh lines.

You're 17 and you cover your zits but you aren't fooling anyone.

You're 32 and you cover your dark circles but you aren't fooling anyone.

You're 14 and you hate your mom because she doesn't UNDERSTAND you.

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You're 26, and they put your baby girl in your arms, and you've known her all your life.

You're still 26 and you haven't slept in 3 months and your breasts are leaking twin moons on your shirt.

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You're still 26, and your heart doubled in size.

You're 5 and you like to finger paint.

You're 18, and you get to vote and it MATTERS.

You're 2 and NO NO NO NO NO.

You're 21 and you're finally doing body shots legally at Raleigh's.

You're 7 and you just read your first chapter book — Ramona Quimby Age 8.

You're 34 and you've had really, really really good sex.

You're 8, and you want to be a writer.

You are 27, and you are chasing your little girl through wet grass while new life kicks you in the rib.

You're 13 and you're ugly.

You're 13 and you're beautiful.

You're 28 and you hold your second baby and learn that the heart can grow until forever with room enough for everyone.

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You're 33 and your hands are your mother's and you've forgotten what you wanted to be when you were 8.

You're 30, and you helped break your marriage in two jagged pieces.

You're 15, and you're kissing and kissing and kissing the boy you love until you're both aching and blue.

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You're 22 and you're wailing over your mother's open grave.

You're 32 and you built a house with your two hands and made a home for you and your kids on your terms. 

You're 25 and you've climbed a mountain, and swam with dolphins.

You're 35 and you write it down, because you're living, and you're living well, and you want to remember who you are — you are all these things, on this wild ride around the sun all over again.

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