I’ll stop talking about my birthday.
Just one sec.
I am getting a new computer, and am making sure I’ve saved everything I want off my old (OLD) (GERIATRIC) (DECREPIT) laptop. Appropriately timed, I found some old photos that made me smile as I was reminded me what welcoming twenty looked like. I walked into a surprise party, and a gorilla stripper that arrived and left in full costume was the cherry on top.
College boyfriend and all, THIS was my early twenties in a photograph: corralled craziness, super fun, laughter, incredible friends, spontaneity, late nights, constant surprises, lots of love.
You can apply all of the above to my late twenties as well, just with associating those words with Brian and babies, and “late nights” in all caps. (I have vague memories of long, wild nights at Club Baby, but they’re a little blurry…)
My thirtieth birthday didn’t involve strippers, or much of anything, really! My birthday wish was to do nothing, and that’s what I did. My day consisted of minimal effort, salty hair, beach exploring, and napping, with a West Hollywood dinner at PUMP to ensure I was still marginally interesting/trying my best to meet Lisa Vanderpump.
I wonder if these pictures are as indicative of this whole decade as the previous were to my twenties.