{pic from Giggles n' Grins}
I turned thirty over the weekend. Wow, I said it. I didn’t say twenty-five again or fifteen times two, I did however cringe when I typed it (proof reading is going to be was hard). I don’t feel any different than I did a few days ago but it was pointed out to me that I canceled my own birthday dinner because the weather was bad and that would not have happened in my twenties. That’s how you know you’re old you do “responsible” things… sometimes.
But I digress, I accidentally dressed like a ballerina this morning for work. That’s the point of my ramble. I wore a light pink skirt, white sweater, paired with some white tights and totally rockin’ boots and had my hair in buns. I didn’t mean to but when Chris pointed it out the nine-year-old in me, infinitely pleased with herself, smiled and twirled a few times. What girl doesn’t want to be a ballerina?
I like the way I look today but is it okay for a thirty-year-old? I noticed in the mirror that I was looking old. Do I have to change my style? I do not want to be that woman getting a makeover because she can’t dress her age. I tend to me more courageous in my attire the older I get. I like the freedom that comes with not caring so deeply what people think. I’m totally freaking out about what it means to be thirty! Screw it, I’m just going to do my own thing and if anyone asks I’m twenty-five.
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