In three short days, I turn the big 3-1. I write it like that because for some reason, I'm having a difficult time accepting the fact that I'm going to be 31. It's ironic, because I had no trouble accepting the big 3-0.
Thirty wasn't a big deal to me. In fact, as my 30th birthday approached, I realized that I had forgotten that I wasn't yet 30. Maybe it's because I was pregnant at the time, and from when I found out we were expecting, I knew that by the time the baby was born, I'd be 30. So at this time last year, I honestly thought I was already 30. So that big number came and went (with a awesome dinner party to go with it) and that was that.
But now comes 31 and suddenly it feels like a REALLY BIG number. And I can't explain why. I have a few friends who turned 31 last year, and lived to tell, so obviously it can't be that bad, but it feels suddenly older and more mature than 30. Maybe it's because 30th birthdays tend to be celebrated -- and I went to many 30th birthday bashes (and even missed a few) in the last year -- but so far, 31 seems to quietly slip by in the hopes that no one notices.
And I'm just letting it slip by. In past years, there's always been some sort of party around my birthday. For a few years there, it seemed like early January parties at our place (in the apartment) were a tradition. Then there were the nights-on-the-town parties. Because you know, every needs to party one week after New Year's! (Hey, it's not my fault!) But this year, there are no birthday celebration plans, no big dinners and no nights on the town.
So is this what's it's become now? Letting your birthday go by quietly in hopes that no one will notice you're one year older? Why, for the first time in my life, do I feel like I'm dreading my birthday, or denying that it's actually almost here. Because all through my twenties, I was never the kind of person who moaned about getting older -- I rejoiced and celebrated. And I'm not moaning now, but somehow, that age -- 31 -- just feels a whole lot older than 30.