By Jen Pastiloff
For as much as I talk about telling the truth, I still get butterflies when sharing my age. My friend Michelle Filgate had an essay in Buzzfeed yesterday about how she used running to treat depression and then she got injured. She interviewed me and it said, Jen Pastiloff, 40 years old, and I sat up and had a moment where I thought how could they have gotten that wrong? I am so not 40 years old.
But I was. Yesterday.
Today, I am 41.
It mortifies my mother-in-law that I tell people how old I am. Especially here in LA, we are not “supposed to” do that.
Youth is a commodity! You’re not “supposed to” age!
I call bullshit.