Peak Form at 35

Today I’m 35, and I need everyone to know: I am in the best shape of my life. Not in a humble-brag way. In a ‘look at these arms, look at this confidence, I earned every bit of it’ way.

Peak Form at 35

shows me in my natural habitat - the kitchen island where 90% of my content gets shot because the morning light is chef’s kiss.

Marcus took approximately forty-seven photos this morning because I know my angles and I’m not sorry about it. The ‘candid’ reach for the coffee mug?

The ‘candid’ reach that took twelve tries

Staged. The over-the-shoulder glance?

The over-the-shoulder that definitely happened naturally

Calculated. Seventeen years of practice, people. I am not accidentally photogenic - I am strategically photogenic.

Sophie rolled her eyes when she saw me directing Marcus through the shoot, but she also asked if she could borrow my leggings later, so who’s really winning here? Theo announced that dinosaurs don’t celebrate birthdays because they’re extinct, which honestly is the kind of perspective I needed this morning.

Thirty-five feels powerful in a way that twenty-five never did. I know what looks good on me. I know my lighting. I know that confidence isn’t something you find - it’s something you build, one perfectly angled kitchen selfie at a time. And yes, Biscuit photobombed half the shots. Some things never change.