Me.Me.Me.

I walked into Forever 21 the other day, my mother trailing me carting my daughter in her arms. My mission was to find a dress for my husband's photography show and I thought, maybe I'd find something there. I'd walked into that store a billion times before, sometimes purchasing a pair of work pants or a cute tank top for after hours, so I thought they'd be a good store for me to check out.

I did one quick lap of the store, taking in the brightly colored clothing displayed on the walls, making my way through the maze of shoppers both older than me and younger than me. I did a quick scan of their dresses and quickly headed towards the door with one thought in my mind: I can't wear these clothes anymore.

Everything on their racks felt like a sham to put on. I imagine that if I put on one of those slinky black dresses that I'd be fooling myself that I was still young enough to do so. I imagined if I tried to put together one of the outfits on the mannequin I'd be lying to myself.

And the second I walked back out of that store I contemplated for a second the ending of my youth. The ending of my "junior section" shopping. The ending of an era.

I always thought I'd have a problem with this... but as I looked back at my beautiful daughter, I accepted it with a smile.

With grace.

I promptly went to Ann Taylor and bought two dresses that fit me perfectly and made me feel like a woman.

A woman.

Finally.

All thanks to a tiny little baby and ten months of bliss.