Today, I am thirty-one. I was not scared to turn thirty. In fact, I was thrilled. I boasted to everyone about my dirty-thirty celebration. I wore it like a badge I had earned. I had felt thirty already for some time. Mature yet still youthful. To me, thirty meant I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR. It meant I was finally in my prime. I could balance myself carefully between two decades, keeping my twenties close enough to me when it felt necessary. Thirty-one scares me. No, it frightens me. It means I have no more excuses. I am now IN my thirties.
At this time, I have to remind myself of all the things thirty-one years has given me:
- Be Lauren. Never again will I be ashamed of my undying love for Billy Joel, and the gap in David Letterman’s teeth. I will forever hate asymmetry. And you can forget…
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