Suspicious.

I've gotten very comfortable with being 29. I like to tell people, "I'm 29 for the first time." I'm the only 20-something in my office, everyone thinks I'm cool (ok, maybe not - I like to believe they do), and I'm old enough to be taken seriously but not too much of an adult. 29 and I have had some good times...it's not been the easiest or most fun year, but it has certainly had its high points.

I'm not so sure about 30. She stands there at the end of the month saying, "Hi! I'm fun, too! Would you like a cupcake? We're going to be BFFs, I just know it." And then she tells me my hair looks great and asks if I've lost weight.

I don't trust 30 one bit, because I haven't lost an ounce since I got back from Hawaii. I'm very suspicious of her promises of the best. year. EVER. I know what the first six months will hold - I get heartburn just thinking about it.

After that, maybe 30 and I will be inseparable and we'll go on our merry way holding hands and singing a happy tune. But until then? I'm watching her out of the corner of my eye because although everyone else's 30 was a wonderful companion, I'm not ready to buddy up to her just yet.

Also: welcome to NaBloPoMo!