Tonight is officially the last night of my 20s. I have mixed feelings about my passage into my 30s.
There's a part of me that can't believe I'm going to be 30. This is the same part of me that sucks in my stomach and visualizes my boobs being perky and firm like they were 10 years ago. This part of me looks in the mirror and thinks "I don't look 30" as I search for gray hairs to pluck. Sure there's only been 5 but that's 5 I ripped out on sight!
The other part of me thinks "Who cares?" I have a husband who loves me, beautiful kids, the ability to stay home with my family while working towards my goals or taking the time to make goals. Who cares if I can't say I'm in my 20s anymore?
James makes jokes saying I'm becoming an old lady and I guess I am day by day. But since he's already and old man who cares. He's been going gray since I met him so maybe we'll have just one more thing in common. He's probably more upset about not being able to say he has a wife in her twenties then I am to have to say I'm the big three-zero.
So let's see how tomorrow goes. I can't do anything about turning thirty but I can enjoy my thirties so much I will mourn the loss of my 30s even more then I did the loss of my 20s.