Yes, you read that right. Today is my 29th birthday, and I mean to celebrate in style.
Ok, scratch that. I wish I was celebrating in style. Instead, I mean to celebrate by going to work like any other weekday (though I’ll be going out to lunch with my co-workers, and I may try to duck out early, as well), and later on, meeting my sister in London for dinner. Though the latter part of that equation is indeed fun (we’re heading to NOPI, my favourite chef Yotam Ottolenghi’s new-ish Soho eatery), there will be no tiny cars full of large presents, raucous parties or pink artwork (hey, I liked the image and it matches well) for me today.
Not that I mind at all– in fact, I’m quite happy to lie low this year. Most of my school friends have been turning 29 this year, and a few have found it pretty rough. It’s almost as though 29 is worse than 30, like the day is screaming “You have one year left!” or something. (Though one year of what? Who knows.)
I’m not looking at it that way.
28 for me was a study in extremes. I had some pretty huge upheavals in my life (a break-up, moving house and all that that entails), but it presented some awesome experiences as well; a new job, living on the same continent as my best friend for the first time in six years, lots of travel, helping my sister pull off her perfect wedding, and a whole lot of hang time with friends.
I can only
hope expect that 29 will bring more of the same, and I can’t wait. In fact, I’ve been telling all my like-aged friends not to fear the big 3-0 either, and to look forward to it instead. We are going to collectively kick that decade’s ass, I say, and I mean it.
But for one more year, I’m going to enjoy being in my twenties. Thanks for coming along for the ride!