30...

I woke up this morning and put on close to stylish apparel. I say close because I was having a major shoe crisis and I didn't have any appropriate hair clips to properly accessorize myself. I'll give myself a pass on the hair because thanks to ceramic flat irons, my bad days are good. But the foot factor was questionable. A sweater with a collared shirt underneath and corduroys (the kind that look winterized, not 1970ish), I was somewhat impressed with my choice of colors. But then I dared to put on a pair of boots that tipped me right over to 30 years of age.

Not that 30 years old is old or a bad thing. Like Jay said, 30 is the new 20, right? I speak more of that mental 30. Where you transition from fashionable to convenient. Where clothes become something that you put on your back. Where you loose your creative sense of style. Ahhhhh...
So I politely ask my one and only, "do these boots make me look 30", she politely and disgustedly answers, "yes" and walks away.

People. That made me want to rage against the fckn machine, reclaim my youth, my adventure so in retaliation, what did I do...I slapped on a pair of Adidas. I said to myself, that will show them! She walks by again and asks "are you wearing those". So I went into the other room and removed my retro Top Tens and put on my work sneaks and packed my pointy flats.

Got dammit!

Now I'm dressed for work, looking more Fall '99, than hip. How disappointing. I feel like a bum.

If I don't fix this pre-30, I'm doomed for post-30. And I only have a few more minutes left to fix these close calls.

Why is life so complicated! Lol.