Eliza In General

38 For 38: My Birthday Promises

(NSFW-ish: There’s a gif of a very nice ass in this post. Not mine, but if you search the internet long enough…)

Ah, a birthday is upon me. Father Time caught me by my scuffed workplace-friendly high heel for the thirty-eighth time in a row. It was bound to happen and, yes, I’m thankful that it did. But I’ll be honest: Thirty-eight is an age I say with a touch of reluctance. I mean, yes, I’m getting to the age where the content of More Magazine and Nora Ephron essays begin to resonate with me.  I’m thinking longer about the French fries I stuff in my face before I stuff them (because I’ll be ninety-eight before I give those things up).

However, there are some perks to kicking and screaming my way towards forty:

I’m forgetting more and giving a fuck less.

I don’t know what a Migos or a Yachty is but I’m sure they are both nice fine automobiles.

My favorite development? I’m relating more to Disney Villains than Disney Princesses. (Ursula = life goals.)

This is a misunderstood merwoman…

I won’t go all emo on you and start boo-hooing about turning…middle-aged (cue the Britney-on-American Idol cringe). According to IMDB, I’m in great turning-38 company: Kate Hudson, Jordan Peele, Claire Danes, Kevin Hart, Tatyana Ali…Jason Momoa.

Yo. The gorgeous hunk of Adonis named Jason Momoa was born the same year I was? Heavens. So how come my ass doesn’t look like this?

(A: Because Jason Momoa is a god among fat asses.)

Look, am I happy about being blessed with another year in Trump’s America? Of course.

Another year older? Sure.
Another year wiser? Meh.

Another year pettier?


(What can I say?  I have a knack for turning wit, sarcasm, and not giving a fuck into an artform.)

All jokes aside, I’ve grown into my 38th year on this planet…and this past 365 days hasn’t been an easy time for me to blossom. Prince died. My youngest (and last) child went to Kindergarten, a transition that wasn’t easy for either of us. The nation elected a tyrannical reality star for POTUS. In short, 2016 was a cluster so I’ve decided to do what I did last year: make a promise to myself for every year of my life.

  1. Yell less (this was #1 last year as well, so you’ll note that I’m really good at keeping promises)
  2. Buy a LUSH bath bomb. Or twenty.
  3. Stop telling my children ‘I’m busy’ all of the time. One day, they’ll be too busy for me.
  4. Rein in my random acts of petty.
  5. (But also think of new & innovative ways to be petty!)
  6. Decide for once & for all: Popeyes or Harolds?
  7. Journal weekly.
  8. Write the damn screenplay.
  9. Tell myself I am a good mother daily, even if I’m not feeling that way.
  10. Clean out all three of my email inboxes.
  11. Figure out what it is about Drake that annoys me.
  12. Listen to Anderson Paak’s Malibu.
  13. Get the kids to school on time at least once a week (okay…twice.)
  14. Buy a sexy piece of lingerie & spring on my husband while he’s watching Impractical Jokers.
  15. Collab with another indie author to write some smut.
  16. Pay a coworker I don’t like a compliment (many options there).
  17. Freelance for pay.  My words are worth the money.
  18. Get LASIK. (Surgery’s on June 29th – I’m hyped!)
  19. Win NaNoWriMo this year (because last November…oy.)
  20. Paint my nails.
  21. Find the beauty in my dayjob that’s not monetary.
  22. Call the few friends I have more often.
  23. Make Date Night a priority.
  24. Learn to cook a new dish.
  25. Watch the Beaches remake chillin’ on my DVR (even though I’m still not here for dead Nia Long).
  26. Think before I tweet.
  27. Or talk.
  28. Or do anything that might impact another human being I’m not too fond of.
  29. Hang out with my younger brother more often.
  30. Write/publish Still Savage.
  31. Begin plotting my untitled fangirl romance novella. Heh.
  32. Lose twenty pounds (I held off as long as I could to post this inevitable clichéd promise.)
  33. #RESIST
  34. Ask a medical professional why my hands are cold ALL of the time.
  35. Get a massage. I haven’t had one since my last pregnancy…five years ago. (*Britney cringe*)
  36. Breathe.
  37. Make peace with dissolving my relationship with my father.
  38. Be and always remain dope

Again, wish me luck.  If I can accomplish even a third of this list (specifically the sexy lingerie part), I may be able to say my age out loud with no hesitation. Maybe…

(c) Eliza David – FacebookTwitterInstagram

4 thoughts on “38 For 38: My Birthday Promises

  1. Happy Birthday! I love this list, it’s a great idea. Re the cold hands: have your doctor check your thyroid function (a blood test). Low thyroid sometimes causes cold extremities.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *