It happened at the beginning of last month, and I've been waiting to write up a great "it was my birthday and these are my amazing insights" kind of a post. And waiting. And waiting.
It turns out I don't have a whole lot of insights about turning 30. Weird.
Actually, I am noticing some changes in myself. For one, I am not as cute and fuzzy as I used to be. The tough, grouchy lady inside of me is rearing her head--and getting appreciated, instead of pounded under. There are things that go along with that tough broad, like reading Stephen King again after years of turning up my nose at scary stories, and buying books about the martial arts. There are weird things, too, like changing snack preferences--I used to be sweets all the way, and now I'm transitioning to jerkey.
I don't know. Things are changing. I feel like my emotional bones and muscle are starting to appear from beneath the puppy fat of my youth. I'm not as cute as I used to be, and I think that's okay.