Next month I’ll celebrate my 39th birthday — the final lap in my 30s. I don’t have a lot of feelings about it. When I consider being 40, I mostly just think about what trip I’ll take to commemorate it. I do think about aging, but not in the number. I bemoan the sun spots on my face, the way my eyelids sag, my thinning hair, but it’s all just the poorly …
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