Today I am 30.
On November 16, 1980 at 8:55 p.m. after 24 hours of labor, I was finally born. My mom was quite happy to be done with the whole ordeal and to have a little baby girl.
I really don’t recall how I felt about the whole ordeal. Probably annoyed. I mean, I had a direct source of food, it was warm and I had never experienced having a dirty diaper.
And here I am, finally 30.
I don’t think most people say “finally 30”. I think most people are like, “crap, I’m 30. Best years, gone!”
But I think I was kind of born 30 ish. I was a lame teenager. I wore elastic waistband jeans and played the cello. In college, I went to ALL of my classes and it wasn’t until I graduated that I realized that maybe I could’ve slept in a few more mornings. Frank and I were married when he was 23 and I was 22. We built our first house when we were 25.
Becoming 30 sort of justifies all of my middle-aged behavior and interests.
And I love it.
Hello 30, I love you.