Spend even a nominal amount of time with me, and you’re sure to get an earful about the anxiety stemming from the fact that I am just a hair over eight months from turning 30. Sorry. Not sorry. But somewhat sorry. Not sure where my twenties went, quite frankly…my brain is still stuck somewhere between the ages of 26 and 28.
So what’s a single professional woman on the cusp of her fourth decade to do? Besides read everything about the costs/risks of freezing one’s eggs (asking for a friend), complain about the romantic wasteland that is dating in the Bay Area, lust after homes with down payments that cost more than a Notre Dame education, and long for the days when I could eat approximately 5000 calories, have more than three drinks, or run ten miles without feeling any negative consequences in my weight, liver/brain, or knees, respectively? Make a list of 30 things to do before I turn 30, natch. Because when all is said and done, I’m just a big cliché. Not even my idea–I’m shamelessly poaching this from a handful of older/wiser friends who did something similar for their dirty/flirty/nerdy thirties. Thank you, party people.
I have 248 days to, among other things, hug a koala, get a tattoo, visit Texas, and summit a mountain. As of this past weekend, I can say I have gone backpacking (more to come on that experience). One down, 29 more to go. Eat your heart out, Sheryl. Because this lady is LEANING IN.