A 30th birthday bash
April E. Clark
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
There are several coping mechanisms a person can utilize when turning 30.
First option is a vacation get-away. The spot should be some fabulously fun place that helps the birthday girl or guy forget he or she is no longer in those formidable 20s. Think Vegas, South Beach or Indiana Beach.
I think only Hoosiers can appreciate the latter.
Another option is a tattoo. The tolerable pain – depending on the area on which the art is placed – can take away the sting of the transformation from young to a more polished type of adulthood.
I haven’t decided how to describe 40-something.
If body art is in order, I recommend a tat commemorating the moment. Maybe a pink elephant jumping out of a birthday cake. Mothra morphing into a butterfly. Or maybe Mom’s name in a big red heart.
She should get credit for all that hard work the last 30 years.
Another option for coping with this age change is a fancy party with the guest of honor in a beautiful dress. Think a debutante ball or a quinceanera.
And when a party of this type takes place, there are a few signs it will be one guests recall with stories 10 years later. There has to be a transition to that big 4-0 bash.
The heartburn’s a little worse after that party.
One clue is if the guest of honor is wearing a dress. And he looks better in it than you. Seriously.
My arms definitely need some toning work.
Another sign is if at least three of the guests have on such hot, form-fitting party dresses they need to be sewn into them.
Including the man of the hour.
Of course the problem with being sewn into a dress is the transformation from party dress into pajamas. My mom always seems to have a seam ripper on hand, so maybe that’s the answer. The only other option is staying in the dress as long as possible. This extended walk-of-shame look can probably only work in Vegas of South Beach.
Indiana Beach, not so much.
I took the zipper route to escape from my party dress Saturday night. Although I might need to borrow that seam ripper from my mom for the next big one. I know the party was one of those nights that guests will be talking about until Eddie turns 40. There was no jaunt to Vegas, or celebratory tattoos. But who needs those when we live in Glenwood Springs, where fun is easier to find than the place I chose to have my tattoo.
It was so before that joke in “Old School.” Seriously.
All this talk of ways to celebrate 30, or 40, has me wondering how I’ll ring in another year in approximately 50 days. It’s not a hallmark year like 21 or 30. Or even 40. But it is the kind of year where I’ll promise myself to travel to places I’ve never been. Try cuisine I’ve never tasted. Wear a designer party dress scored at a thrift store I’ve never donned.
Even if I have to be sewn into it.
April E. Clark wishes her sweet friend with the injured knee a speedy recovery after Monday’s surgery. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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