35 is freedom.
She doesn’t give a f*ck what you think of her—
She’s spent way too long learning who she really is to let anyone mess that up.
35 doesn’t do things to please anyone.
She doesn’t wager, and she sure as hell doesn’t settle.
She doesn’t let anyone tell her what she needs,
Because as much as she loves her family and friends,
She’s learned the hard way that if she’s not happy doing something,
Then it’s not worth it.
35 is a beautiful mess at times.
She’s stronger than she looks,
But more vulnerable than most will ever see.
35 isn’t afraid to cry,
And she no longer runs from love.
She is laugh lines
And creases of smiles,
Well-worn and satisfied.
35 is soft
And just a little bit worn.
She is stretch marks and scars.
She is tattoos and a favorite pair of jeans.
35 eats Cadbury mini-eggs while shopping for nothing,
And she drives with the windows down,
Singing her favorite song.
35 is friends and family
And days that become the best kind of nights.
She’s a beautifully scarred heart that’s been broken—
And she’s broken a few herself.
She’s bad decisions and great memories.
35 is children’s hugs,
And she never tires of hearing: “Good morning, Momma!”
35 is simple.
35 is knowing the best days of her life haven’t even happened yet.
Yeah, this is what 35 looks like.
Author: Kate Rose
Image: Author’s own
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
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