30 rock

30 years and 72 hours later, and I'm happy to report that I did not sprout wrinkles or gray hair and my boobs did not sag overnight. The sky didn't fall. God didn't smite me down. I'm 30 and still alive to tell the tale.

I hadn't been stressing much about it. Age ain't nothin' but a number right? And anyway, as I said before, I feel like I haven't wasted much of my youth or opportunity to f-up during my reckless 20s. So it was a decade well-spent! But as the days ticked down, I started to hyperventilate. I became a cliche- wailing about what have I done with my life so far?! I didn't want to plan any birthday celebrations, instead I was leaning towards reading sad poetry in a darkened room and wallowing in self-pity. But time is merciless, and it was my time to age. Dammit.

All the old-timers (hehe) have been quick to offer up some words of (ancient) wisdom to me. It is comforting to hear that all are unanimous in saying that their 30s have been the best decade so far. Perhaps the most helpful advice came from my dear friend Connie:

"I feel much wiser now and am much better at making decisions. The important thing is that you don't LOOK like you're in your 30s!"

So here's to the 3rd decade. Here's to better decisions and more self-love. To learning from my mistakes, once and for all. To quality over quantity. To anti-wrinkle creams. To longer, but less hangovers. To lying about my age from now on. To always remaining young at heart.

And come on, I know I don't look a day over 24! Bwahahhaa.