I realized the other day that I have been unconsciously counting down to thirty this entire year. I realized it when suddenly everything I was frustrated about lately ended in the thought "And I'm going to be thirty!"
(Cue Meg Ryan via When Harry Met Sally voice in my head.)
I don't know why that was such a big deal to me, I don't feel any different than I did 2 days ago.
No scratch that, I feel better.
I've been sort of stupidly dreading this milestone for months, not really because I fear getting old, but more because I fear the idea that I haven't made anything of my life. But when I woke up on my birthday, I felt just fine about my life, and who I am now. Do I wish I was more patient and brave, not so overly-sensitive, and anxious, well yeah. And I may be a lot more tired than I was back then, but I know a whole lot more than I did at 20, and I feel like everything is cool. You know what I mean? I don't think I'd trade those ten years of growth and learning for anything.
Plus, last year I wished for a baby when I blew out my candles and it worked out pretty nicely, so I've got a good feeling about my thirties.
Turns out the only thing that really bothers me about being 30 is the term "Dirty Thirty."
b. it sounds disgusting and like something a teenager would say (except I keep hearing 30-year-olds say it- ew.)
c. what does that even mean anyway?
Also, Mr. figured out how much I despise that phrase and has therefore begun using it nonstop.