Well, it’s here. The last year of my twenties. Last weekend I turned 29 and celebrated with lots of champagne, brunch with friends and a little pool time.
I recently had friend (in her 30s) mention to me that she felt more pressure at 29 than she did when actually turning 30 because the moment she turned 29 everyone kept reiterating “only one more year until you’re 30!” Ew.
To be honest, I never quite understood the panic that some people, especially women, feel with growing older. Everyone has different seasons of life and they aren’t dictated by how many years you’ve been alive.
When you consider the alternative to growing older, it feels more like a blessing than a calendar reminder for eye cream.
Besides, aren’t all the best things better with age? Wine, cheese, that favorite worn in pair of jeans. Definitely better.