Monday, September 12, 2011


I'm turning 30. T-4 days. woo.hoo. yay. I'm not excited.

It's not so much the age that bothers me...but leaving behind my 20's and all that being a 20-something meant. When you're childless as a 20-something it's an accomplishment (congratulations, you've mastered birth control)...and being single means you didn't settle for the ring that came with a not so great guy but instead have so many possibilities, hundreds of dates to go on and a career that is full of promise. People are proud of you for the little things, like saving, cooking and cleaning---patting you on the back and telling you how great of a wife and mom you'll make one day because you're good at domestic things.

And then you turn 30---and suddenly a dark cloud is looming. The grim reaper is lurking after 35 to eat your now useless eggs for breakfast. You've failed at life because you have not produced an heir...or managed to get married because you were "too picky" or "too focused on your career". You are no longer complimented for saving---you're 30, responsibility is a requirement. You can cook and clean all you want to---but people just wonder what, but most importantly who, you are doing all of that for. You learn that your birth control mastery may have rendered you barren...or at best reproductively challenged. Life no longer seems full of possibilities...but rather bleak and empty. Unless you count the weddings in which you will be named maid of honor---because you have no real life and therefore have time for things like picking up Spanx for the bride.

At some point, I hope to look upon being a 30-something with the same hope as I did being a 20-something---but I have no idea when that will be, or if that day will come. 30 is not the new 20, it's the old 30. Honest.

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