I am the first one to crack “old” jokes, I can admit that. Someone’s birthday rolls around I scheme up a cleverly nasty text message and giggle as I send it.
Generally it’s about a person being a senior (even if I am older than them) or I purposely get the age wrong: “Have a great 40th” if it’s really only their 35th. Or something like, “Do you have any wild plans like you did for your 40th?” when they are still years away from 40.
So when my 30th birthday rolled around this week and the dozens of greetings came in first thing in the morning, I failed to tell people how my body ached and I had a leg cramp that kept me up all night. I was dizzy getting out of bed and I once again giggled thinking karma’s a bitch.
But I’ve never understood the whole age drama – these “milestone birthdays” they call them.
I was in a panic thinking I had to do something crazy and youthful like go to Las Vegas for my 30th. I considered it. But that’s not me either. I don’t need to try feel young by doing things I wouldn’t normally do just to prove to myself and others I am still capable.
So what did I do? I worked all morning, had lunch with my brother, we played volleyball in the pool, I rushed off to a conference in the evening, had a bath and lights out by 10.
I better wrap this up because squinting to proofread this is just putting more age lines/wrinkles on my forehead.
Yup, being old is fun.