Just a number-gettin golder is awesome

Transferred from myspace. Originally posted April 9, 2007.

I turned thirty-four at the end of last month. 34! I know! When I was a teenager, the thought of being thirty (let alone thirty-four) was terrifying. Thirty was old. Practically infirm. Who wanted to be thirty? Blech. All the good stuff in your life happened in your late teens and twenties, right? You graduated high school, got to vote for the first time, went away to college, got to drink (legally), graduated college, got your first job, got married (generally), bought a house, had kids and then you turned thirty. What was supposed to happen after thrity? PTA, soccer games, the minutia of daily life in the suburbs, and boredom. Wheee! Sign me up. The closer I got to the dreaded thirty though, the less it looked like the death sentence I'd once supposed it to be and the more it looked like something I wanted to explore. Well, really, what was the alternative? Once I actually hit the big 3-0 it wasn't awful. I actually kind of liked it. Thirty was bad ass! No one ever told me that in my thirties I'd be more comfortable in my own skin than I'd ever been before. No one ever told me that I'd be more confident or self assured or outspoken. My friends all felt the same after their milestone birthday. Why had we thought thirty was old? Thirty wasn't old. Thirty was awesome. It was like we had been let into some secret society where we could say what we wanted, be what we wanted, do what we wanted (and for some of my friends WHO they wanted), and not be worried about what anyone else thought. Hell, yeah! Thirty was not the kiss of death, but rather a pass into a world of possibilities. It's been said in recent years (mostly by Oprah and her over fifty crowd) that fifty is the new thirty, which would make all us thirty-somethings teenagers. Take that size 2 belly baring high schoolers! Guess what? We thirty-somethings can drink, have sex, buy expensive shoes, drive nice cars and we don't have to live with our parents or worry about acne. Haha! It's liberating and fun and seems to get better with each year. Thirty-four? Bring it on. Forty? I'll be seeing you in a few years. Get ready.