So life did not end today. I am 30 years old, and my boobs sag only moderately as they did at 29. And my ass can be squeezed just as questionably into my jeans as they did yesterday. So, of course, when you differentiate around the cusp of your personal decade change, there appears to be no difference. But there is a whole decade of the thirties to get through, a decade of metabolism to drop. I guess I am living my role as a 30 year old - married, family started, its about time I gave up that "I'm in my 20s" label. Maybe this psychological wrinkling is related to the angry owl in our biological clocks. Afterall, today marks the day that I have supposedly lost 90% of my fresh eggs. The chicken's are hitting the road, ditching me for a younger model. Even still, a huge part of the population does just fine with those 10% of eggs, it seems to be near normal to start rockin' the hen house with only 10%. Hey, its better than messing around with the 300,000 you have at the beginning of puberty. (Yes, I just looked that number up)
So me and my ass, boobs, and eggs will drink up this day. I am thirty, I am the same as I was yesterday, and miles different from when I was twenty. And I don't mind at all!