My aunt always used to tell us that we shouldn't even think about marriage or kids until we are 30. I made it to 23. And that was me holding out. I don't regret spending my "good years" on starting a family, because I seriously can't even imagine what I would have done with that time other than play a bunch of video games and date moody boys who wear non-prescription glasses. I consider that a bullet dodged.
My sister asked me if I got depressed about 30 at all, and really, I haven't felt it. I have everything I could want. I'm, dare I say it, HAPPY.
My friends took me out the night before my birthday. We went to a drug store and bought Arizona t-shirts with crap like coyotes and dream catchers on them, and I think 20-year-old Renee would have been too embarrassed to wear something like that unless it was really obvious I was being ironic, but I'm old enough to know that it really doesn't matter. When you're 30, you can wear any crap you want. We went to see a Beatles Tribute band, and we danced, and we sang out loud, and I ended that night feeling content.
My sister-in-law made 30 her Year of George. It was her time, and she was finally going to do what she wanted to do, and not worry about what other people thought about her. She quit her thankless job of watching kids in her home, went to school, and became a charge nurse in an ICU. I still consider that one of the most inspiring things I've ever seen firsthand.
I really can't wait to see what I do with my thirties. I bet I love it. I bet it's as fun as singing out loud to Hey Jude, no matter how out of tune I sound, and then going to my mom's house and eating all the tacos I want.
(Also, I passed for a Student Discount at the movie theater without having to show ID AND, I started my thirties without any pimples. So, I'm good.)