“Considering the alternative, getting old isn’t a bad option.”
—Oh, yeah? How do YOU know?
I just turned 31, which was no big deal.
Turning 30 bugged the crap out of me, because I didn’t feel as though I was where I thought I should have been by age 30:
- I didn’t win the Nobel Peace Prize.
- No Pulitzer, either
- Still not married and not even any dating prospects in sight.
- No kids (don’t want 'em so that part doesn’t bother me too much.
- My life is almost half over
- I’m tragically un-hip to the latest and greatest music
- Kids think I’m old.
Then I realized we make our choices and live with the consequences. Comparing yourself to other people (like your parents) when they were 30 is futile – we all are offered different opportunities, obstacles and make different choices about those things.
Then I thought about the good parts:
- I still get carded for smokes and booze
- People actually come to me for advice at work
- I’m now considered “an expert” in a couple things
- As a woman, have reached the age where people start to respect my opinion, without me paying them first!
- I actually had the opportunity to mentor an intern
- I’m somebody’s boss… 8 peoples’ boss… worthy of authority? It happens to the best of us…
Chin up! There’s only 40 years left until retirement!
Woo! Thanks! 
The Office Den Mother wrote:
“Don’t sound TOO bitter, do I?”
Come now. I didn’t mean to strike a nerve, ma’am.
Turning 30 was nothing. Six months later I became a father. You want a landmark in your life, try THAT!
Thirty was no big deal. Thirty-five was harder to take. It was like, wait a minute, I’m old enough to be president now. Thirty-six was worse. Thirty-six? *Three dozen?*How the hell did thishappen?
The next one is 37, which will be no real big deal. But when I hit 40, I intend to have a major mid-life crisis.
30 was no big deal. Kinda neat, actually. Now I’m 34 and that’s good, too.
Actually, I had a minor freak-fit when I was 26, because I realized that I was in a dead-end job, I was dating a guy, but didn’t know if it would be serious, and was generally unhappy with life in general. I was NOT where I thought I’d be at that age. Anyway, that passed. And life has moved on and is good.
I’m 35. EVERY birthday is traumatic.
I was planning for good interesting things for my 30th last year. I was going to have a totally ME day, and maybe even do some outrageous stuff, just for ME.
And instead I ended up working all day, it rained, and the whole day was a total fucking waste of time.
And therefore I felt miserable.
I was alone, poor, and miserable.
However, being 30 means nothing to me.
Turning 30 for me was no big deal, it was just another birthday. In 2 years I turn 40 and at this stage that milestone does not faze me either. All part of growing older I suppose.
My father-in-law had a list of things he was going to do when the kids were all grown up. He was going to learn to drive an 18 wheeler, try parachute jumping, and so on - things he wanted to do that were too time-consuming and/or risky to do while there were still kids depending on him. I don’t know if he has really tried everything on the list, or intends to, but he has certainly done some of the things. So, originally as a joke, I made a list of things I would do before I turned 30.
A year before my 30th birthday I realized that the only thing left on the list was “See a total solar eclipse”, and that there would be one crossing Europe just weeks before the big 3-0. So, we travelled to see it. Turning 30 felt great.
Now I’ve just hit 31, and I think it’s about time I make a list of things I’m going to do before I turn 40…
I have never worried about birthdays. I love them. A mental check list, you made it another year. A set time to look back at the year and see how I’ve done
Like many others here, I had more trouble with 35 than either 30 or 40. I’m 45 now (46th birthday coming soon) and that’s not been a problem either.
Of course, 45 is a record. <snort!>
It didn’t bother me to turn 30. It didn’t bother me to turn 40 about nine months ago. Hell, I’ve had more fun this summer than I’ve had in a long time.
I got a big kick yesterday. Despite a beard, I look somewhat younger than my age. A younger worker questioned me about my musical tastes and seemed surprised when I told him I hate most popular music recorded after 1970. I was puzzled at his puzzlement and asked him how old he thought he was. He replied “About 28” and would not believe me when I told him I will turn 41 in a few months.
I finally had to pull out my driver’s license to convince him of my true age.
Some days, it does pay to get out of bed.