Yes it is my birthday I am talking about. I think once more (like last year) I should receive tremendous amounts of kudos for actually waiting until two days before to mention it.
I have made thorough research of my own mind-set to figure out why this has happened two years in a row. The result: Last year was the first year I was actually closer to 30 than 20. I don’t particularly find this a reason for celebration so I’m finding my insides torn between going all crazy on the birthday front and actually trying to ignore how old I am.
I feel very much like every cast of Friends when it comes to turning 30.
But I want all the balloons, the big sign saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY and I want the big extravagant party where everyone gets drunk and we talk about it long after I’ve turned the dreaded 30.
Though I have to note that a co-worker asked me on Monday how old I was turning and when I said 26 she replied:
“Wow you’re so young!”
That made me feel a little better, but only a little. I’m hoping shit loads of cake will do the rest.