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May 29, 2001 Twenty-SevenLast Saturday was my 27th birthday. Some may say, "no big deal," but sometimes getting older isn't as fun as it used to be.For one thing, I'm now in my "late-20's." The kids at school don't mistake me for their older sister. In line at the supermarket the mother behind me tells her kid, "Don't bump into the lady, now." I'm called "ma'am," way more often. And it's happened so many times it doesn't even bother me anymore. Maybe that's the part that bugs me. Just about the only time I feel "young" is with my husband's friends. However, everywhere else I go, I'm "old." In my university classes, I'm one of the oldest. Most of my classmates are my younger sister's age. Even among my friends, I'm one of the only married ones, which automatically makes me "old." I had a really good birthday this year. For the first time since I graduated from college, I actually did something. Instead of being in Japan, or on the airplane (like the past two years), my husband and I had a three-day weekend all to ourselves. We went out to dinner three times, to lunch twice, and I even had two birthday cakes! For the first time in six months, we went to the movies. And we visited every mall on the island, including the (new to us) DFS in Waikiki. It was great. But I'm still 27. I like being where I am in my life. I love married life. I'm looking forward to having children. I can't wait to finish graduate school and start a new career. I have no regrets so far. Perhaps I'm just afraid to realize that I'm really a "grown-up," now. The more I think about it, 27 isn't too bad. Who knows? If I weren't 27, I may not be where I am today. I've had 27 incredibly wonderful years. And I'm having more fun than ever before.
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