Tomorrow is my birthday. Yup. Me. That nerd there holding a blueberry wearing a raspberry as a hat (it's delicious, I totally recommend it).
I think there's an expectation of how people should feel for certain birthdays. Like your eighteenth is supposed to be about being legal so you should be excited to go get totally wasted - so much so that you might not even remember your birthday.
I have a friend who's never drunk in her life. I remember how baffled people were on her eighteenth because she just wasn't interested. She was excited to be able to vote and to be an adult, officially, but she wasn't interested in the legality of alcohol.
Twenty is another big one just because you're not a teenager anymore. And by twenty-one there's no age limit for drinking anywhere - or at least not in North America anymore.
Twenty-five is only kind of cool. The cost of car insurance goes down and you can rent a car too! But it's not particularly significant.
And then there's thirty.
What can I say about thirty? I know a lot of people feel dread at this birthday. Or at the very least they think they should feel dread.
I'm thrilled. I'm giddy. I'm over the moon!
Because we seem to live in a world where all the experience you may have doesn't actually count under a certain age. And thirty seems to be the age when you finally get credit for your experience and what you've learned and achieved. Like, because you made it to thirty and haven't killed yourself in some unfortunate or silly accident, you must be pretty reliable and mature. Or something.
I don't know.
I know that looking back on my life, it's amazing. I'm proud of it. And may there be thirty more years to come, and more. Because every birthday that happens is another year I'm alive and that's pretty damn amazing.
So far in my life I've been to twelve different countries, I established a not-for-profit organisation that's still running today - along with the longest running Drag King troupe in Canada. I've learned sign language, taught myself to be a designer and changed my career in under a year, published a book, and held three successful art exhibitions that I organised myself.
So here's to getting old, because I want the smile lines. I want the grey hairs and I want that furrow in my brow from enjoying the sun. I want all the bumps and bruises and scrapes and scars.
Because life is amazing. And growing old sure beats the alternative.