Today marks 28 years since my mother’s water suddenly broke at her office, and she was rushed to the hospital to give birth to little me. Sometimes, I look at myself in the mirror and think I am incredibly immature, and other times, I think, how have I only been around for the small number of years that have passed?

The last year has been different for me in a lot of ways. I’ve noticed shadows on my face that I’ve never seen before, and even traces of tiny lines on my forehead that mark that I’m no longer “so young.” I’ve noticed wrinkles on my best friends’ faces. I realized I gained weight, then worked rigorously to lose it, and now am maintaining a more active life. For the first time when discussing marriage and children, I’ve actually had people say to me, “yeah, you still have a few more years.” Just a few more years, huh? Just two years ago, these same people were saying I had a “lot” of time!

It’s strange what a difference just a year can make in your life when it comes to how people perceive you. Maybe that’s why a lot of people don’t like to share their age. I never thought I’d be the type of person who would refuse to share her age no matter how old I got, but for the first time, I can actually empathize with them. I still won’t do it, though. I don’t want to be full of crap and pretend to be something I’m not. I am who I am. Everyone else can deal with it.

Here’s to hoping that in my 28th year, even if the shadows on my face persist and gradually become fine lines, that this is a better year than this last year was, and that it is free of pain and needless negativity.