It has been thirty damn years since I was born.
On one (youthful, sparkly) hand, I feel great to be thirty and am living a life I could have never dreamed. I’m a health editor in New York City, possibly on the verge of becoming a published fiction writer. I have a witty, smart husband with brilliant taste in all things cultured, and a dog who couldn’t possibly get fuzzier.
On the other (wrinkled, wilted) hand, I no longer enjoy watching MTV and vehemently hate teenagers. I worry about getting older and becoming invisible. I have never liked the passage of time very much, how work days take forever and vacations days go by in a blink.
So, it’s with mixed reactions that I greet this day. But mostly positive mixed reactions.
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