Thirty years ago today, I was being squeezed out of my mothers vagina. Well, actually I was being ripped out of her stomach via emergency C-section. Hence, I woke up this morning the big 3-0.
And I just discovered some new wrinkles under my eyes. Happy Birthday to me.
I dont really mind exiting my 20s, or physically aging even what I do mind are the people who put pressure on me to act my age.
Youre turning 30! You going to get married or become an old maid? are the birthday sentiments I seem to be getting.
For some reason, the age of 30 is viewed as some sort of relationship deadline especially in the South where Im like an endangered single species attending church every weekend to attend weddings, that is. What is the rush to the altar at 30? Our eggs do not have the shelf-life of dairy the expiration date extends beyond 30 years. Hell, my mom had me when she was 40 30 years ago, before fertility was a scientific experiment.
Turning 30 is such a big deal, apparently it's newsworthy and warrants the cover of the Living Section in the Charlotte Observer: Breaking News: I'm 30 and still single. Even Kim Kardashian did a feature in People Magazine about how she thought shed be married with kids before 30. But life doesnt always work out as planned does it, Kim. I figure Ill just play it by ear life that is.
Maybe I am missing a few screws, but there is no clock ticking (or eggs rotting) in my body. Im not going to put the settling in settling down just because I am a few years short of cougar status.
Now that Ive conquered all my adolescent fears, Ill do it better in my next 30 years wait, now Im just singing a Tim McGraw song. Well, Im going to enter this new decade with the intelligence and worldliness of a woman who has 30 years of life experiment. The 20s were just practice and the wrinkles on my face are from my laugh lines. They are just proof that I smiled a lot in my first 30 years.
So to me its not the dirty 30; its the flirty 30. And that means it's merely an excuse to throw a big party.