Happy Birthday to me....

I have been 31 for 1:41 minutes.

I turned 31 a few days ago though. By that I mean, I have spent the last few months confronting my past, my fears and fears of my past and thus my future. I explained early morning a few days ago that the importance of a hajj or travel isn't the destination - my most favorite thing in the world..arriving, that is, to a warm home, or dinner, or anywhere where I can take my shoes off and eat something sweet -- the important thing is to remove your self and spirit from the weight of the everyday. To get your mind focused on the singular purpose of survival, finding the train, speaking French, seeing if they have that dress in your size. Rinse off your feet, anoint your self with oil and see what you should be doing with your god-given talents.

Opps. Did I get too serious?

I have been in Paris letting my shoulders feel the absent weight of stress. To feel relief from worry, and the low self-esteem, and the bank account limit, and the non-inspiring job, and the lack of a love life. I've been in Paris looking around and being inspired and loved and inspired and pushed and stepped on and hugged (not kissed :() and spoiled and cared for and stared at and ignored and fed and cajoled and dam my feet hurt!

But since I didn't have on my everyday, 'woe is me' sunglasses (free with the daily self-degradation pills) I ended up seeing me.

Me.

And let me tell you - I'm a lot thinner than I thought - (and my boobs are perkier too - look out nysc, the towel is coming off!!!) it might be because now my shoulders aren't slouched anymore or stuck right underneath my ears in an attempt to remained balanced as my head and heart are alternately filled to capacity with anger and apathy.

Thinner.

It's nice. I'm going to look so fly.