When I worked at Canada Post, a colleague asked me for my date of birth. “March 21, 1983” I replied out without thinking—I had just spent the morning filling out employment forms. “Wow, I can’t believe you didn’t mind giving me your year of birth!” she laughed. “Some people are really weird about it!”
Turned out she was she “birthday card” person and she was really good at keeping track of the team members’ birthdays (and yes, she gave me a card that year, and all the years that followed—she actually became a very good friend).
I don’t really care about my age, getting older year after year and all that crap. Maybe I’m lucky. Women in my family age very well and both my mother and her mother look young and pretty.
Age is only a number. This year, I’m 31. Doesn’t mean much to me.
I have never planned my life (and never had career plans either). I was against marriage and ended up marrying Feng when I was 23. I had no idea how I would make a living but I absolutely love my job and never regretted taking the freelance road. I was undecided about having kids until I learned I was pregnant with my sweet dragon Mark.
Things happened and despite the ups and downs, the occasional bumps on the road, life is pretty good.