I turned thirty yesterday and for someone who is usually so keyed up about my birthday, it was pretty uneventful. Being seven months pregnant has that effect on a birthday, I suppose. I have been hearing for years that as you age, birthdays become less relavant and I would think to myself that no way will I not ever make a big deal about my birthday. But here I am, thirty years old and there was no countdown to the big day. I attended a ladies night Bunco game for Pete’s sake. Maybe next year, when I’m feeling better and can enjoy an adult beverage, I’ll get back to my usual excitement for my birthday.
In the months leading up to this birthday I wondered if I would start to freak out over this milestone birthday. I thought there might be a moment where I had a small breakdown at the idea of being THIRTY. But I didn’t. Perhaps it’s something to do with the weather in Hawaii; it’s hard to keep track of time when every day is just like the one before so it didn’t feel like my birthday was coming up. But I think more than that it’s that I’m so totally comfortable with where I’m at in my life that turning thirty didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Turning 27 and living with my boyfriend who seemingly would never propose and working at a job I didn’t like, living in a city I hated was a harder birthday than 30. Thirty was just another day closer to Stella’s birthday.
I did win a prize in for the most Buncos in last night’s game, so it’s not like it was all boring.