Now that everyone has caught up and has turned 30, I have a a little over a month to enjoy the age with them before I turn 31.
Holy crap. Thirty-one. Why? I was fine for 30. Actually I was beyond fine, I was hella in it. I danced at every free moment that weekend. I am not kidding. I planned a pub crawl which ended with a midnight brunch. So me.
While I enjoyed being thirty, the creeping thought of 31 sat in my brain. This year I turn 31. Do I have to? Here we go, again.
I was the type that thought I’d be married with child by 30. Thirty seemed so old when I was twenty. Now, I have to squash my twenty year old’s self’s image of the future and tell her reality is here. There is no marriage and there are no babies. But there is love, life and happiness. Yah!
Turning 30 was dandy, I didn’t understand what all the hype was about. Sure, it’s a marker in life but it wasn’t traumatizing. Thirty-one will mark going over that hump. I’ll be on the other side. I am definitely no longer on the left side of the timeline. It sucks.
To honor it this year, we had planned a trip to Houston. God knows how I love to shop it up in Houston. And eat it up at Gravitas. Cowboy just learned that if he switches shifts (he may have to in order for his drills) he won’t be able to go.
Dang it. He was part of the reason for going. One of my good friend in Houston hasn’t met him yet and he has not yet experienced the greatness of Gravitas. I may be planning to turn thirty-one right here in Dallas. For some odd reason that sounds so boring to me. Same old Dallas. Same old me. Nothing new just another year. Only it’s my 31st.