A few years ago, I took an online quiz that gave you your “true age” based on your favorite activities, personality traits, and reactions to different hypotetical situations. Your “true age” would reveal not only your perceived maturity level, but also the age range that represents your sense of self the most.

I had believed that I would score in the sub-10 year old range, because let’s face it – I can be pretty immature at times.

However, I was shocked to see that I had scored in the 30-35 range.

(Meanwhile, J scored in the 4-7 range. Figures.)

I pondered the results. I considered those who look back to their college years or their early twenties with fond longing. “Those were the best years of my life,” they say.

It was then that I realized that I am different. I am looking forward to my thirties, when I will have gained enough experience to be a strong, confident, and relatively happy person. When I will (hopefully) be more financially stable than ever before. When I will (hopefully) have had a child or two, entering a new stage in my life.

This Sunday, I will be turning twenty-eight years old. How do I feel about it? Pretty damn good.

I have found that as I age, I have become more content and comfortable with myself.

Sure, I am aware that I am no longer in my prime years. I have not been able to fit into my skinny jeans in years. I can no longer party all night without suffering the consequences the next day. My energy level is no where as high as it was back in my teenage and college years. I look back at pictures of myself in my early twenties and think, “Damn, I looked pretty good back then.”

However, I am happier and more comfortable with my body now than at my thinnest 10 years ago, when I weighed about 10 lbs less. (It also doesn’t hurt to have a husband who loves your curves and tells you how sexy you are every day.)

I am able to talk confidently to strangers and even sell myself when needed. I make friends easier and faster than ever. I no longer cower in crowds, or subject myself to alcohol as a means for social lubrication.

Sure there are bad days, but that’s life. No matter how tired I am at the end of the day, no matter how crabby or sad I may be from a bad situation, I count my blessings before going to sleep every night and I am thankful.

Twenty-seven was a big year for me. I became a home owner. I re-kindled my relationship with God. I married my best friend. My father became sick, which became a blessing in disguise, for it has led him to also rekindle his relationship with God. I became a Youth Group teacher at my church, and a small group co-leader for the adult English ministry. I started a new job. And just recently, I began investing my time and efforts in a project that is nothing but full of potential.

I look forward to getting older with sheer determination and optimism. Because I truly believe that the best years are yet to come.