30 and counting

30 is a scary number. It’s a number that makes me feel old and past my carefree prime. I have a lot to be thankful for and a lot that I have accomplished for being “only 30” but nevertheless, I still feel like a week old banana.

A couple of weeks after my 30th Birthday, my kids and I wound up eating lunch at a Wendy’s (I could eat their BLT Cobb salads everyday). This particular Wendy’s that we happened to be at was near several high schools. I was dressed in my usual “mom gear” which included: a t-shirt and jeans.

After we sat at our table, in walked a huge group of high school kids. Almost immediately the Wendy’s turned into a high school cafeteria. Only this high school cafeteria was nothing like the high school I went to. These kids looked sophisticated and more adult than I ever did or have in my 30 years of life. Those girls looked like they were ready to bust out and dance while standing in line to order their very own BLT cobb salad; not dissect a frog in science class. They were decked out in glitter and glam, leather and buckles with their hair nicely quaffed and their nails nicely manicured. The guys with them were equivalent (in their own carefree boy way).

Not only did the sight of these kids make me feel old and decrepid, they made me wonder. Did I miss out on something wonderful in high school? Was I the weird, homely dressed girl in high school–and not the pretty, dancing, BLT cobb salad eating, fancy girl?
For an instant I felt sad, I felt a longing for a chance to be a glittery high school student again.

But then it hit me like a ton of bricks…

I had my chance at high school, I may have been the homely girl that liked taking pictures, but  I had plenty of carefree fun, I ate plenty of salads, I went on and got a college degree and now I have a beautiful life to show for it. I may be 30 but..

I wouldn’t trade my t-shirt and jeans life with my kids for all the glitter in the world.


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