so a few weeks ago, Erin Kennedy, a blogger who runs a lifestyle blog encouraging and empowering women in their thirties, started following me on twitter. i didn’t know whether to cry or start clapping. don’t get me wrong, being pretty new to twitter, i am so thrilled to have a new follower but for a few seconds, i just stared at her blog’s description and thought, okay yeah, surely this is just some random occurrence because how does she know i’m about to turn 30?? (and you know deep down i’m totes excited to read her blog, too, like SO
totes excited.) (wait, can you even say totes when you’re thirty?) and then a week later, i got my first birthday card in the mail. and it was from the guy at State Farm. (yes, seriously.) wishing me a happy 30th. (yes, seriously.) how in the freaking world does everyone and their mom know i’m about to turn 30?!?
i had been avoiding even thinking about this next big birthday like it was my job. and yes, if you’re 30+ reading this, rolling your eyes at me, go right ahead. i hear (and believe) that 30s are the best years of your life and recently heard that 40 is the new 30 and i would assume that makes 50 the new 40, so maybe what that means is that it just keeps getting better (*slow clap*) and that more and more of us are in denial that we’re even aging at all (totally okay because you’re really only as old as you feel in your soul, right?), but for some reason 30 just felt like a really big one for me, personally. it felt like a heavy weight that was quickly approaching.
Mama said there’d be days like this…
once said to me, “Your twenties are a fun mess.” well ain’t that the
truth, yeah? they were messy and horribly fabulous, and terribly and
hilariously pathetic and i’d like to look back on those years with a
shake of the head, a big hearty gut laugh, and two thumbs up because
sometimes i can’t believe i made it out alive.
is it just me or are there certain pressures that go along with turning 30? sure, there are pressures with each decade i suppose, but i think there are specific ones that come with 30. thirty is supposedly when you’ve got your shit figured out, right? you’re supposed to be married or settled down, you’re probably a parent, you’re established in your career, you feel comfortable with who you are and it’s now okay to buy regular underwear from someplace like Target. call them granny panties if you must, but those bad boys are comfy. and most of all, you are a grown up now. like, no excuses. (these are just things i’ve heard and trust me- i’m still lookin’ for the guy who came up with all these rules so i can give him a good fist shake.) but what if you aren’t there yet? what if you haven’t reached those life marks yet? or ever? does it mean you missed something along the way? (answer: NO. it does not. more on this later but for now, just remember that your life has been carefully cared for and each chapter you’ve been given is beautiful, regardless of what the world says you should have or be in this moment.)
some rare (rare rare rare) days, dude- i feel like i am this supposed 30. like i’ve got it
all figured out and i feel adult and i’m paying bills and talking about
grown up things like which vegetables you should eat for salt
reduction. but i don’t dare take that girl seriously. most days, i still
feel like the little girl in that picture up there,
looking for the next party favor to blow obnoxiously in someone’s
my friend Michelle told me that old age is a gift, promised to no one. i understand this to be true, completely, and putting all the joking aside, i know that i am blessed beyond measure. i know that there are a lot of women who don’t get to live through their fun messes. there are some women who don’t get to jokingly complain about that next decade. and while i sure hope 30 isn’t considered old age, if it is a gift (and i truly believe it is), then i will gladly accept it and say nothing but thank you, God.
so alright, 30. (*fist pump*) let’s do this thang.