Today, I’m thirty years old.
I’m not the type to get freaked out about getting older; as every year passes and new wrinkles appear, it doesn’t throw me too much. And yes, I realize 30 is still pretty young. But there is such a jarring change that happens when you now belong to an older age bracket, different demographic, and have a new digit at the start of your age. I still feel about 16, and look 12 (especially without makeup)- as I’ve been known to be teased about- especially when everyone in my group gets carded because of me at a bar or restaurant. Basically, what I’m saying is that this decade means looking more and more like a wrinkly 12 year old.
As I prepared to say goodbye to my twenties, I started looking through my photo archives to see if I’ve really changed that much from 20 to 30. While looking back, I was a little horrified by the tanorexia, bleached blonde hair and heavy makeup phase I went through in the early 2000’s, as well as the weird lip chapping epidemic of ’06/07.
It was surprisingly hard to find photos of just myself any time after 22 years old, because somewhere along the line I stopped liking having my picture taken. I know, strange, since I spend my life asking people to be comfortable in front of the camera nowadays. I did my best to find something to represent every year of my 20’s where I didn’t have a fake smile or pained look on my face.
and here’s to the start of a new decade.