When my alarm went off on the morning of my 30^th birthday, I cringed at the idea of getting out of bed. Maybe if I hid away under the blankets for just a little longer, I could salvage a small piece of 29. For whatever reason, 30 seems to be the first major milestone that women dread, and I was certainly no exception. I felt older. In fact, I think I actually heard my joints cracking as I tossed from side to side in a dramatic display of resistance. I could have slept the entire day, avoiding the misery that was my birthday, but the wild beasts (my children) were awake and hunting for food.

I stepped on my bathroom scale, as I admittedly do every morning, and was not at all surprised to see it hadn’t budged an inch. Numerous workouts, cutting carbs, eliminating dairy, and increasing my water intake didn’t really seem to be making a difference. It left me asking, what the hell was the point? It was hard to ignore that my midsection had somehow transformed into mush, my boobs hung to the floor (okay maybe not that low), and my thighs looked like a topographic map of the Rockies. Oh and those bat wings; you can trust me when I say, they are alive and well. Aside from my body, I had to stop and wonder, what was it about my 20’s that I was going to miss so much?

Looking back to my younger days, I remember my single mom lifestyle all too well. My apartment was so small that I probably could have washed the dishes, gone to the bathroom, and watched the same rerun of FRIENDS all at the same time. Let’s not forget the creepy middle aged man across the way, who always managed to find himself in the hallway without a shirt, at the exact moment I arrived home every day. The patchy chest hair and excessive AXE body spray will forever be burned into my brain, and my nasal cavity.

The amount of money to my name, while hard-earned, was rather pathetic. To ensure my son could at least eat well, a bag of popcorn was often my go-to dinner. On a good day, I was able to scrape up enough lint change from my purse to treat us to a dollar menu cheeseburger. Thinking about it now, I probably would have been better off sticking to the microwavable popcorn. At the time, my body ran off of minimal sleep, Red Bull, and Lean Cuisine, yet I was somehow in the best shape of my adult life. Okay maybe I wasn’t exactly the healthiest I had ever been, but at least my ass was in the right place. Let’s face it, that’s all 20-somethings really care about anyway.

Let’s not forget my train wreck of a social life. By social life I mean getting drunk at the bar on Two For One Thursdays, and sleeping with whichever guy my vodka goggles fancied that night. I can still taste that cheap well vodka, and I vividly remember what it felt like coming back up. Before we get into the Mom bashing, I will defend myself beforehand, and clarify that I never brought strange men home, and I only went out the nights my son was with his father. The rest of the nights were spent at home coloring, and watching Finding Nemo for the 500^th time. Okay Mom bashing can commence now…

In all seriousness, to everyone looking in, my years of dating may have seemed wild and exciting, but it was a pretty lonely time in my life. A desperate search for that next great love, usually ended in new sheets, a broken heart, and a pint of Cherry Garcia. Don’t get me wrong, being tossed around by a buff, tall, dark, and handsome, covered in tattoos man has its benefits. Such amazing benefits! However, when it’s all over, you are still just as single as ever, waking up alone, waiting for that call or text that never comes. The same ones climbing into your bed, and all you can hope is that this time, he is going to fall in love. That this time it’s going to mean something different to him.

I spent the first half of my 20’s chasing all the wrong ones, and pushing away the ones who would have given me the world. This is something that many young single women do, because who can turn down buff, tall, dark, and handsome? Let’s not forget the tattoos! It’s like that certain shot that does you in every single time. It’s delicious, and so tempting, but beneath the surface is that liquor that turns you into that blubbering, fall-on-the-floor, forget-where-your-shoes-went mess. Your friends can tell you 1000 times that “shot”, is going to break your heart, leave you crying and throwing up on yourself, but you drink it down, every single time. I had to ask myself again, what was it about that and your 20’s, that you were going to miss so much? It kind of sounds like a major suck fest.

Today, at the age of 30, I can happily report I am eating well-balanced meals (most of the time). I can have just one drink and keep myself composed like an adult. I have two beautiful boys, and I am happily married to the love of my life. I get to go to bed and wake up with the same man every day. Did I mention he is buff, tall, dark, handsome, and covered in tattoos? I have a savings account, and a place to call home. Don’t get me wrong, life isn’t picture perfect, but it’s my kind of perfect. I may not have the ideal body, and I may have lines on my face that weren’t there before, but each imperfection is a part of me, and every scar and stretch mark tell a story. I may be older, but who I am remains the same. A much wiser, well rounded version of course. So would I want to do my 20’s all over again? Hell no! For my 30^th birthday I embraced this new chapter in my life, and say a big F*@# you to my 20’s! It was a journey, but sadly my friend, you will not be missed!