Here are some questions and concerns I have about my entry into the next decade of my life.
1. Does this mean I need to wear cold cream on my face and eyes at night? Invest in cucumbers? Pink rollers and frumpier housecoats than my navy blue Hawaiian muumuu?
2. Will my feet smell different now? Will my toenails be harder? Should I paint them with a brighter shade of red?
3. Will I have to eat half the calories I have been eating in order to sustain my perch at my current weight loss wall? Maybe I don't want the universe to answer that one.
4. Will people look at me differently now that I am more numerically mature? Will they respect me? Will they ask for my opinion and always take my sage advice? That would be AWESOME. I am going to start telling people what to do right away.
5. Will my eggs be dusty and less likely to produce bright adorable children like the first two, who were born in the bloom of my twenties? (Judging by my baby sisters, and many other younger children for that matter, the late born will in fact be extremely bright and beautiful as well, so take comfort my future spirit babies. Maybe you will even sing or draw like your younger aunties.)
6. Will chocolate taste different? On second thought, I feel certain that chocolate will be there for me through thick and thin, always and forever.
7. Will my voice acquire husky undertones that imply the wisdom of my many years' experience?
I know that thirty is practically the new twenty. But I don't feel twenty anymore. I was in London when I was twenty. The world was my fabric store. And there was a sale. I had no serious, weighty cares, such as, what on the green earth will I feed my children next? Can I truly muster the will to pick up the crayons one more time? Will I really always have to fold ALL of the clothes?
For now, I suppose I will just have to take it one day, one year, and one decade at a time.