I turn 30 today.

And it feels pretty uneventful [in a good way]

  • I still don’t have a single gray hair.
  • I do, however, rock a very full head of thick blue hair.
  • I’m generally very happy with my intellectual accomplishments.
    [humblebrag alert]
  • I still have a ton of things I want to do with my life.
  • But feel like if I died today, no regrets.
  • I’ve still somehow managed to go 30 years without being stung by a bee.
  • Or a wasp.
  • Or anything sting-y.
  • I’m physically stronger than I was when I was 18.
  • (strong enough to deadlift triple digits, hell yeah)
  • I think I’m physically more attractive than I was when I was 18 as well.
  • But I don’t really care either way?
  • I don’t have any children.
  • And for the most part, ignoring primal biological urges, I’m indifferent.
  • I still sometimes cry like a teenage girl who got dumped at homecoming.
  • My feet are still just as restless and shifty as they always have been.
  • Taking 5 minutes to write this was a labor of love.
  • I do eat a lot more vegetables!
  • Like, more than my mom does (please eat more vegetables, mom!)
  • And I’m a better cook than I was a few years ago.
  • And my taste in alcohol seems to have grown super elitist and/or douchebaggy (Hungarian port? Obscure sour ales? What happened?)
  • But I don’t ever get hangovers.
  • And that’s kinda rad.
  • Take THAT, 22-year-old Aimee.
  • (the trick was drinking water)
  • (water is pretty damn good)
  • I’m happy with what I have.
  • And what I don’t have.
  • I’m grateful for the people in my life.
  • (and for the ones not in my life not being in my life!)
  • And I feel–no differently from 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, or 29–in full control of who I am and where I go.
  • But for the most part, I feel like me.
  • (an overuser of parentheses)
  • (and a very meta lady overall)
  • And definitely not like a Buzzfeed article representation of what 30-year-old me is supposed to be or whatever.
  • [insert animated GIF of Beyonce]
  • [insert animated GIF of cat]

So basically, what I’m saying, is:

Thanks to everyone who took part in my 20s.

Whether you were my total BFF, my college biology lab partner, my gym buddy, my drinking friend, my Swedish one-night-stand, one of many people who has ever witnessed me barf or faint, someone I only met through some odd series of ill-fated mishaps on a dark street corner and we became high-fiving friends, someone I’ve held hands with in a gooey emotional sense, someone I made a weird face at at a party and we became swift and fierce enemies, one of my far-away friends who I vented to about whatever craziness was going on over some Internet chat client, anyone who has ever encouraged me or allowed me to be me and allowed me to know you on more than a superficial level…

Thanks for being a part of my roaring 20s <3

And thanks, Geritol!

Your Pal,

Cool Muscles