Well...it was with mixed emotions that I came into work today to find...no signs on the outside doors announcing to the building that I was reaching this monumental point in my life; the point at which I can officially announce myself to the world as being "one score & ten." There was, however, a beautiful cluster of Star Wars party decorations adorning the door to my office, which immediately warmed my carbonite-covered heart.
Truth is, the part of me who feels it's more respectable to embrace the pretentiousness of age rather than skipping absentmindedly away from it totally started telling people I was thirty, like, five weeks ago. If you say you're 29, people go, "Ooooh, you're almost the big three-oh!" and a host of other such cliche'ry so as to make the very speaking of your age virtually unbearable. BUT...if you tip up your chin and very elegantly reply, "I'm 30," most polite strangers will assume you to be very eloquent and accomplished for your age, and may even remark how you don't look a day over 24.
That's been the most rewarding part about telling people I'm 30...apparently I am so youthful, spry and vivacious that no one presumes me to be of such an advanced age. I apparently appear to be somewhere between 24 and 27. Score one for SPFs and cartoon-watching!!
The least rewarding part, however, has been knowing I'm 30 on the inside. I hate being aware of the fact that when I was 15, I assumed I would be a WILDLY successful lawyer or writer by now, that I would be married to an independently wealthy man who adored me, and I would be raising my three young boys in navy & white Polo shirts and madras shorts to ride horses and play tennis, treat young ladies well, and respect their elders.
Let's see...of all these aspirations, I can at least say I own a navy Polo shirt myself...and a beautiful madras skirt I got at J. Crew this spring. I know I'm not alone, but this quarter-life (am I really going to live to be 120??) thing is a real bitch. What am I going to be when I grow up?? When will someone eventually force me to get a job where I have to wear pantsuits and talk marketing jargon to some tie-wearing figurehead with a BlackBerry? When will I have to stop watching cartoons and start popping out kids who watch them instead?
At the end of this day, I was incredibly thankful for my thoughtful birthday decor, limited only to my own office. It was perfectly suited for me and chosen by a friend who knows me perhaps better than anyone. And really, that's kind of all I know I want out of life right now. Fun, interesting people who don't take themselves too seriously...and horses. Horses that play tennis.
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