Although I’m not ready for it, my birthday seems to be today.

I could do the whole “I’ll be 39 forever,”  or “It’s the 39th anniversary of my first birthday,” but the fact of the matter is that today begins my 41st year.

Is this the point where I’m supposed to be a grown up?  Because I still feel like I’m about 23 years old:  bumbling, disorganized, confused, questioning, immature. When do those things go away?  Next year?   At 50?

Never?

I bet you’re wondering what sort of birthday prezzie I’m getting.  Let me tell you, it’s fancy this year. It’s exactly the sort of present you’d expect a sex-blogger to buy with her birthday money.  Is it lingerie?  Sexy toys?  A night out with a man at a fancy hotel?

Oh no.  I’m buying myself a new range.  I can’t wait!

Feel free to send along your birthday wishes in the comments below.  I’ll be in the bathroom, checking for new wrinkles and gray hair and mourning the passing of my youth.