I'm fast on the heels of 30, and to be honest, it doesn't worry me. I'm not losing sleep over it. I think I've done a lot in my short time, and I intend to do a lot more.
I intend to collect a few more wrinkles. Grab a few more lines. I like the look of those that are comfy in their own skin and their face can tell a story.
A few months ago I remember being transfixed by this woman's face. I just wanted to keep looking at her. For-all-the-wrong-reasons. There was something odd about her face. And after a couple of days, I finally realised what it was. Her face had no line. No wrinkles. Nothing. Her lips were overtly perky. And I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was some sort of fem-bot.
I'm fighting the fem-bot look. I'm embracing ageing. I'm going to fit my skin and own it. I'm going to get fit for my thirties. I remember when I felt my best, when my body was strong. I'm going back to that place. I'm going to love the crinkly laugh lines that find new homes on my face.
Because after all, there are so many people in the world that never get the chance to age - for whatever reason, so for them, for me, and as a role model for my little family, I am going to age gracefully.
Being 30. Bring it.