On the eve of my birthday, I reflect on a few milestones of my thirties through English comedy films and 10 great things about being -almost- 38.

The day I turned 32 came with an abrupt realization that I was now the same age as Bridget Jones in the 2001 film adaptation with Renée Zellweger and Hugh Grant. I vividly remembered watching the film many times in high school and, most disturbingly, thinking, ‘Oh wow, she’s so old. And she does not have her shit together, like, at all.’ Here I found myself at 32, recently divorced, single, burning through ill-tempered roommates, and working three jobs to pay the mortgage.

Perhaps as a way to put a pretense of meaning to this mayhem, I embraced it as ‘my Bridget Jones year’. I shopped for a suitable partner, set deliberate goals that mostly didn’t come to fruition, and drank too many old fashions. Bridget was more successful than me in avoiding romantic disasters, but at least I outdid her in cooking skills. And I don’t chain smoke.

Today I turn 38. Another age that doesn’t carry a deep significance to most, but is meaningful to me because of yet another English comedy film. A film that held more leverage in my teens than pretty much anything of actual importance — family, health, school. This film is, of course, Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It made up at least 40% of my English language education and, in hindsight, may have inspired some of my personal hygiene practices. I’d learned it word for word and would put masking tape across the Dutch subtitles to practice, you know, when we still watched VHS tapes.

A few months back, I was quoting this scene from the film — a persistent habit to make friends laugh or overcome persistent social anxiety in the presence of new people.

“Old woman”
“Man”
“Man, sorry. Who lives in that castle…”
“I’m thirty-seven”
“…what?”
“I’m thirty-seven, I’m not old!”

So am I old now that I’ve passed 37? Is this some sort of ridge of maturity I’ve crested? I was mind-beamed back to my 14-year-old self and how far away the age of 37 had seemed. How much I would have seen of the world after high school (true), how many children I’d have (none), and that my fleeting youth would have shriveled into a pudgy old face (false).

How remarkable that going from 37 to 38 may seem unimportant, but it is the closing of a lovely life chapter called ‘the mid-thirties’. This era runs a wonderful five years from 33 through 37 of exploration, increased confidence, and personal freedom. And if you’re lucky, like me, you might even find the right person and get married. This time also happens to be the cut-off for being included in the majority target group of serial killers — women aged 15-35 — so that’s a nice bonus. There’s much more to it, though, so I’ve lined up a few things that have notably changed recently and will be taking into my late thirties.

10 things about being -almost- 38

Thing 1: People appear to accept my leadership (even guys) — something that still catches me by surprise

Thing 2: Less cheap attention from strangers — think guy at bar “What’s your star sign then, luv?”

Thing 3: Being in the best shape of my life — might have something to do with hiking up Alaska mountainsides for four months in a row

Thing 4: I am beginning to feel those knees, though — see thing 3

Thing 5: Yes, confidence is important — but I still like affirmation and don’t feel bad about it

Thing 6: I’ve always found aged faces attractive — so I don’t mind seeing one in the mirror

Thing 7: You have to love yourself to find true love for others— yes, that’s super cheesy

Thing 8: Sometimes I truly don’t care about what other people think of me — how refreshing

Thing 9: Being calm and saying less actually draws people closer — nobody likes nervous self-promoters

Thing 10: I’m not forty yet — but really wouldn’t mind it much