I've been accused of being 29 forever. Not true, I tell you!
I've been 29 since January 28, 2007.
And you know what that means. Yeah, I turn 30 in 11 days.
I am none to pleased about this unfortunate turn of events, other than being delighted I've lived this long. And while I vow never to lie about my age, I refuse to lie about how freaked out I am either.
Folks, I'm freaked out.
Which is why I'm celebrating this tragic event over a full, 9-day week.
Last year, deemed "Beth's Last Hurrah", we had a big, classy sit-down at the WashBaG. Obviously, that can't happen this year. So I'm inviting my peeps (and by peeps, I mean people who's e-mail address I have) to a dive bar blow-out. My mom's hooking us up with Mexican food, the Brians are in charge of a cake, the BFF is on "Dignity Patrol" and I plan to enter my 30's surrounded by fabulous friends and looking as acceptable as possible.
Which means...New Outfit!
When I was a kid, my mom wouldn't buy me a new dress until I could list 6 events to which I would wear it.
SIX!
As my birthday is relatively close to the holidays, my six places always were: Father/Daughter Dance, Payne's Christmas Party, Ryken/Spotswood Pre-Christmas Dinner, Christmas Eve Mass, Kids Beth's Birthday Party and Family Beth's Birthday Party.
Easy. Done. One big taffeta monstrosity for all of December and January.
Now that I'm (almost) 30, the times have apparently changed.
Parents no longer fund my wardrobe. And I need a birthday ensemble.
Which is how I ended up at Banana Republic this afternoon.
I was in there last week, shoving some pushy woman out of my sale section when I took a good look at her.
"Mom?"
Once she stopped laughing, I filled her in on my dilemma.
"Oh, an outfit for the party. It should be casual, right?"
I'd wear a tiara to a matinee of Superbad if I could get away with it. One of the many things I'm not is casual.
She was no help.
Finally in Banana solitude mere hours ago, I selected three different "tops."
Ugh, I can't decide. Maybe I should just concede that I'm old and wear a touristy "Alcatraz" sweatsuit.
But seriously. This is like, the biggest decision of my life...
2 comments:
Beth
I can appreciate your situation. Why don't you post photos of your 3 tops and let your adoring fans vote? BTW - I think we were separated at birth.
I feel you, Beth. My descent into old age happens this year, too. I've opted for the blow-out in Paris. Nothing like gallons of champagne to drown one's fears of being the third generation of spinster aunts.
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