The first time I turned 29.

29 years old, trying to pull off “wise & sophisticated”

Today I turn 29 years old. Legitimately. For the first time.

Ask me again next year and I may say that I am turning 29 again. I may be lying to you.
 
It’s always been funny to me that people lie about their age or stress out about getting older. Don’t get me wrong, I am not judging. Turning ‘quarter century’ seemed massive and facing 30 next year is down right terrifying.

I may get a few funny-but-really-just-angry-with-me style of responses to this. I realize that I am on the younger end of the spectrum of online blogging parents. But before you all get ragey and start rhyming off how I should stop griping, please remember you were here once too.

I want to be clear that on the whole, I have no problem getting older. I subscribe to the old philiosphy that age is so much more than a number. Although I have always been fairly mature for my age, I can certainly tap into my inner child and turn up the silly. Especially now that I am a mama.

But let’s be honest, they just don’t leave enough space on important forms for “Age: 29, but I feel like I’m 25!

To feel young at heart is a wonderful thing and something that everyone should strive to maintain at least some of the time, but the truth of the matter is that we still get older. It’s a plain and simple fact of life. One of those suck it up buttercup type things that we can’t change. 

I think for many people, the idea of having to embrace our age comes in stages. On my 27th birthday, it was the realization that I was officially “late 20s”. Today, it is the realization that I am only “20-something” for one more year.

Honestly, I am ok with that. I know I will be able to walk into the next age bracket knowing I am a hard working, successful young women. A dedicated wife and adoring mama who is active and healthy. But I guarantee there will still be a little voice in the back of my head that says, “Holy shit. I’m in my 30s?!”

Back when I could still call myself a toddler.
Wow, look at those bangs!

My boss (who just turned 40) tried to ease my nearly 30 anxiety by telling me that it’s just entering a new decade and that 40s are the new 30s anyways. I told him only people who have turned 40 believe it is the new 30s. He smirked, gave me the finger and walked out of my office. Pretty sure he just proved my point.

I could get all deep about how the age anxiety is linked to a natural fear of our death or get into the variety of ways many people take drastic measures to slow down aging. But either of those discussions are far more than I want to get into.

I don’t have time for that. I’m too busy living my life. Kicking-ass and taking names. Because I am 29 years old. Nearly 30. And completely awesome.

Ideally speaking, my hair will keep getting better with age.

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