I thought I would wake up to more wrinkles and saggy skin. I thought turning thirty sounded old, boring, and extremely undesirable. I thought when the time came, I would want to hide in a hole and be by myself while the world passed me by for a moment.
Well, I thought wrong.
September 19th, I turned thirty. I woke up looking the same with a new pep in my step. I was older, but no more or less boring or desirable. And when the time came to celebrate, I wanted to party with people that I loved in the most unique city in the world; Las Vegas.
My feet hurt from dancing the night away in 3 inch heels. My stomach hurt from laughing with friends, and from over eating at the Wynn buffet. My hands were happy while holding shopping bags of dresses and shirts to fit my growing belly. My eyes hurt from all the nasty images of nudity on the streets but gleaned at the Bellagio water show, Venetian pool side, and the amazing architecture up and down Las Vegas Blvd. And alas, my soul delighted that my husband was still a good moral man even when hypnotized by Marc Savard on a grand stage in Vegas.
I’m still truly happy. I’m still madly in love. And I’m still as immature as I was at 29.
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