Today is my last day/night in my twenties.
Saturday, I’m turning 30 baby.
Oh did you forget? Don’t worry, you have a tiny bit of spare time to still send me gifts of your love and adoration. And if your a little late, I won’t mind. I’ll forgive you.
Since we all know that I’m not that extravagant, I have planned a near perfect solo celebration.
Tomorrow I will be getting a long overdue hair cut. Believe me, it is necessary. Next, grab a large juice drink from a special place (I think there is only one of them; they aren’t a chain like Jamba) to drink my delicious watermelon concoction.
Then I will take my still healing neck over to the chiropractor. Right after, I’ll be ushered into the massage therapist table for an hour of lovely kneading time. This will be only the second time that I will have had a professional massage. The time before was with some good friends right before the wedding. Such fun!
After an afternoon of bliss, I will travel over to the over developed mall to spend my birthday money that my awesome grandma sent over. Seriously?! Grandma’s rock. Well mine does. Seriously, she can out drink any frat boy under the table, likes to tell dirty jokes, got me hooked on reality tv, and makes the best country fried food–EVAH. I love her to death. And she was kind enough to send me birthday money.
Well, since she taught me the fine art of being a shopaholic, it seems rather mandatory that this money be spent unwisely at the mall.
So I’ll likely be blowing it on some luxury purse.
If I haven’t mentioned it before, I’m a purse freak.
Some people are into shoes. I’d love to be, but considering I wear a size 3 (shut up, I’m serious), the effort to find shoes that fit is more than I can spare, both physically and financially.
Others are slaves to fashion. I grew up with a tom boy for a mother who always wears a ponytail, only wears make-up on very special occasions, and still wears shoulder pads on her petite, shaped-like-a-ruler-frame. Clearly, fashion doesn’t necessarily run in the genes. Plus, they don’t make a lot of cute plus sized, petite, fashionable clothes. Heck, they don’t hardly make petite clothes that don’t come with an elastic waistband. Hot I tell ya, Hot.
But a purse? A purse never taunts at you, making you cry in the windowless, mirror hating fitting room. A purse doesn’t make you awkwardly glance at the 5th grader next to you and wonder ‘how in the hell does she wear a bigger size than me’?
No. A great purse keeps you in fashion, makes a statement in the right way, and makes you feel like a movie star. Wear a gorgeous purse along with a great pair of oversized sunglasses, and now I’m a walking celebrity whose main focus is to keep the paparazzi snapping away (hey, that’s how it is in my fictional world).
So tomorrow, I’m going to pamper myself and say ciao to my twenties. They were nice while they lasted…. (mostly).
I’m moving on to bigger and better pastures. *muah*!
Kitty Concerto 