I'm 30 years old.

Which means you must take me seriously now.

I’m 30 years old.

Which means you must take me seriously now.

Because I’m a serious adult.

I do serious things.

I pay my bills on time.

I schedule dentist appointments every six months (when I have dental insurance).

I moisturize.

I get a physical once a year (SIDE NOTE: My doctor told me I had high cholesterol last year and I thought the act of them telling me this before I turned 30 should be a federal offense).

I listen to jazz AND classical music.

I take my car to the mechanic when the “Check Engine” light has been on for a few weeks instead of a few months.

I own a Dyson vacuum cleaner.

I read the news and am able to feign interest in how the economy is doing.

I nod intensely when I’m listening to someone, even when I don’t understand some of the words they’re using.

I’m in bed by 11pm.

I take a multivitamin.

I exercise regularly (okay somewhat regularly).

I clean and dust my apartment. Even my bathroom!

I know more things. Like how to properly take the stopper out of the sink in order to dig all of the absolutely revolting hair out from the drain.

I have real indoor plants (some survive, some do not).

I do my own laundry without shrinking everything.

I’m good at small talk.

When I drink wine, I swirl it around, look at its “legs”, give it a good waft, and think to myself, Yup, that’s wine.

That being said...

I don’t always feel like an adult.

And there might be a few things I could work on.

Like cleaning my sheets and towels more often.

Or putting my money towards car repairs and groceries instead of more streaming services and Postmates.

Or getting my car washed once a month instead of once a year.

Or buying fresh produce more often and actually eating it before it gets moldy.

Or owning stock.

Or washing my face before going to bed.

Or exfoliating.

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Yes, I’m 30 years old.

And...

I’m feeling okay about it!