I don’t look it.

I’ve thought about lying to people, saying I’m 30, see if I get the same reaction as when I reveal my actual age. Probably. I look damn near ten years younger than most anyone guesses.

I had preconceived notions of where I would be in my life by now. None of my previous daydreams imagined my life as it currently is.

My birthday fell on a Sunday this year, so I took this as a sign that the entire weekend should be a celebration of another year of me still here.

Friday night was sushi dinner with my fellow interns. We laughed, drank, ate, kiki-ing to our heart’s content. Being around queer folk almost everyday for two months has been a salve to my slutty soul.

Saturday was feminist trivia at my new favorite dive bar. Is it still a dive bar if it’s clean? My team kicked ass, winning bragging rights and our picture posted somewhere on the internet.

I also took myself out on a cheap date. Ocean’s 8 is a fun movie; I recommend.

And I treated myself to waffles with strawberries and whip cream. Yum.

Sunday was brunch, napping, and adult roller skating. Turns out, even after ten years, muscle memory stills works pretty well. Didn’t fall, and thankfully avoided any major collisions. The grown and sexy were out. They were amazing. Some folks skated as smoothly as if they were walking. They line danced on skates. Frats strolled on skates. I definitely want to go back again.

Everyday, even when the days are hard, I’m thankful. Medical School is stress on steroids. My family and friends are so far away. But each day is another one closer to my MD, another moment closer to the long white coat, one more step to getting back home.

So yeah 35, let’s see what you have in store for me.

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