Monday, February 23, 2009


I turn 37 in one week. 37 has been my favorite number for about as long as I remember. No, I don't know why. But it does seem to pop up in my life a lot, along with my second favorite number, 17. When we went to Graceland, the address of the Graceland center? 3717 (although Elvis' house is actually 3764). When we used my silly numerology book to analyze my future husband's name? His first name added up to 17, his entire name to 37. I notice 37's everywhere - on apartment doors in movies, on the odometer in the car, and yes, I seem to glance at the clock a lot when it hits 37. My husband argues it's because I'm hyperaware, hypersensitive to 37's presence. Perhaps.

What I do know is, 37 holds special significance for me, and so turning 37 feels like a huge deal. I feel like something momentous is supposed to happen, like I'm supposed to achieve something amazing (not necessarily amazing to the world, just to me). It's a lot of pressure. I did, after all, graduate from high school and then live in Germany when I was 17 - and that was a major transformation for me. What will happen when I'm 37? What will I MAKE happen when I'm 37? Because that's key - I can wait all I want to for a spectacular event, for a new me, but, in all likelihood, waiting won't bring anything. Graduating from high school and going to Germany didn't just happen, I worked for that, long and hard. I learned German all my years in high school and worked a part-time job to be able to have money while over there. It didn't just happen, I made it happen.

So expecting great change without changing myself is unrealistic. I want it - I want to magically wake up and have all my character faults gone, to have it be easy to eat well and exercise hard, to suddenly be free of the fear and perfectionism and self-confidence and control issues that have plagued me all my life. But I won't. I may want God to strike me on the head with a lightning bolt to show me which way to go, to transform and transfigure me, but I'm not Moses. I'm not Jesus. I'm just little old Anne. And I'd better start making a plan. Because I'm going to be 37, baby, and I'm not going to waste it.

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