Today I turn th-th-th-th...ahem...thirty. There. I said it.
Thirty is old, you guys! Don't you remember when you were in high school and you would hear somebody say they were thirty-something and you'd think they would make a great friend for your parents because they were way too old to relate to you?
So now I'm thirty and it's not that I'm sad about getting older or worried that my life is over or even that, God forbid, I've lost some of my coolness factor. It's just that I don't really know what it means to be 30. Or 30-something. Because next year that's what I'll be. 30-something. Like the show my parents used to watch. Because they were old and those were the types of shows old people watched.
The hump I'm trying to overcome is that EVERYTHING that means ANYTHING to me, happened when I was in my 20s.
I left home.
I met Brian.
I graduated from college.
I got my first job.
I married Brian.
I bought a house. Twice.
I got pregnant. Twice.
I had a baby. Twice.
It's like I went to Disney World and did all the really big stuff in the first two hours and now I'm sitting here drumming my fingers wondering what the heck I'm going to do now.
Well there's a few things I can tell you right now I won't be doing.
For starters, I won't be wearing these. Or these, for that matter.
And I won't be driving one of these. (I don't hate you, minivan lovers. It's me. Not you.)
In fact, I'd like to think of myself as a nice red wine. I'm just getting better with age. Check out my sister's blog for proof. Aside from the first picture where I'm pretty cute as a little kid, it isn't so pretty in the picture immediately following. My hair....whaaa? And apparently it was in to (a) not know what a bronzer was, (b) wear ribbed turtlenecks, (c) wear ribbed turtlenecks with jean jackets and (d) wear matching ribbed turtlenecks and jean jackets with your sister.
So I'm OK with 30. Maybe even a little happy with it. I'm just not sure what's in store. And that's a little scary. And a little exciting too.
Now you'll have to excuse me. I have to go apply more wrinkle cream. And take a nap.
Thirty is old, you guys! Don't you remember when you were in high school and you would hear somebody say they were thirty-something and you'd think they would make a great friend for your parents because they were way too old to relate to you?
So now I'm thirty and it's not that I'm sad about getting older or worried that my life is over or even that, God forbid, I've lost some of my coolness factor. It's just that I don't really know what it means to be 30. Or 30-something. Because next year that's what I'll be. 30-something. Like the show my parents used to watch. Because they were old and those were the types of shows old people watched.
The hump I'm trying to overcome is that EVERYTHING that means ANYTHING to me, happened when I was in my 20s.
I left home.
I met Brian.
I graduated from college.
I got my first job.
I married Brian.
I bought a house. Twice.
I got pregnant. Twice.
I had a baby. Twice.
It's like I went to Disney World and did all the really big stuff in the first two hours and now I'm sitting here drumming my fingers wondering what the heck I'm going to do now.
Well there's a few things I can tell you right now I won't be doing.
For starters, I won't be wearing these. Or these, for that matter.
And I won't be driving one of these. (I don't hate you, minivan lovers. It's me. Not you.)
In fact, I'd like to think of myself as a nice red wine. I'm just getting better with age. Check out my sister's blog for proof. Aside from the first picture where I'm pretty cute as a little kid, it isn't so pretty in the picture immediately following. My hair....whaaa? And apparently it was in to (a) not know what a bronzer was, (b) wear ribbed turtlenecks, (c) wear ribbed turtlenecks with jean jackets and (d) wear matching ribbed turtlenecks and jean jackets with your sister.
So I'm OK with 30. Maybe even a little happy with it. I'm just not sure what's in store. And that's a little scary. And a little exciting too.
Now you'll have to excuse me. I have to go apply more wrinkle cream. And take a nap.
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