I’m 37. Here’s Why Wouldn’t Do My 20s Or 30s Again If You Paid Me.

I’m also fortunate that many of the women I love and respect the most in the world are in their mid 40s through 60s. Women who don’t fit a mould of what women were meant to be in the 1950s, or what some suburban, myopic morons still think women should be. Women who didn’t marry, or married and divorced, or had a child or a few, or didn’t, and who found something they loved to do and pursued it at the expense of fitting cultural and societal conventions purely for the sake of pleasing some imaginary ideal. My most beloved woman is a yoga teacher I met in Bali who is 57, tattooed from collarbones to ankles, teaching yoga around the world, raising a teenage son on her own, and living with a dog she rescued in Bali. A woman who volunteers her time to those who are incarcerated, does handstands for over 20 minutes at a time for fun, and was raised by a Sikh guru.