Wednesday, August 22, 2007


Tomorrow is my 30th birthday.

The birthdays I celebrated when I was younger were anxiously greeted with bated breath. The build-up to the day when I was showered with cake and presents and friends passed like an old lady crossing a busy intersection. I always got something that I wanted, usually the most inexpensive item on my list. My family was poor until I got into high school, but the things a little girl could ask for back in the 80s didn't include cell phones or iPods. We wanted a Rainbow Brite doll or a Care Bear or a Cabbage Patch doll.

This birthday was a little different. I feel like I've been dragged kicking and screaming like I'm about to serve a 10-year sentence for felonious aging. We should be allowed to choose how old we are. People say it only gets better after 30. I don't believe them.