My Birthday

Today is my birthday. Well, at least for the next hour and a half. I am on what I consider the downward slope to my 30s. Now I am on the last stretch. What does that mean? It means that I have to wear a mouth guard to bed because I grind my teeth. It means I can't eat what I want anymore. It means I determine an outfit as cute only if it is slimming. It means I clean up after myself. I think about retirement. I don't do anything too adventurous because I am concerned about my hips and joints. I want to make sure my clothes match my age group. And for some reason, my face still breaks out, but I religiously put on anti-wrinkle serums and sunblock every morning. I no longer care if my hair is perfect, but if I have a single strand of gray. I don't necessarily care of people see me without make-up, but if I have crow's feet. And one more criteria for my clothes - not too tight on my mid section.

I realize I sound a little vain. My mom always told me I was vain. Oh wait, actually she always wondered why I didn't get ready to run errands with her. Times have changed. I dream about working out, but never put those desires into action. I dream about salads, but never order one. I make fun of Denton for groaning like an old man, but I am not far behind him. The big 3-0 is looming. I hope I make it. My only glimmer of hope is that 40 is the new 30, so I guess next year won't really be that big of a deal.