When I Grow Up, I Want to Stop Being Asked To See My I.D.

... and seeing as that might not happen until -- uh, *mentally counts* -- possibly TEN years from now "Why Gosh Darn, Tinkerbell, I'll NEVER grow up!"

So a few days ago at work*, upon thoughtful consideration as to what to get my boss upon her milestone of turning twenty-five, I had started a mental countdown and have come to the startling realization...

"Holy Shit! I'm turning THIRTY in less than FOUR YEARS!"

Thirty. The big whopper that is THREE and ZERO.

Last time I had bemoaned a turning-point, I was twenty-two bitching about turning twenty-five! And that was *counts on fingers* FOUR YEARS AGO.

And before that, I had dropped out of college -- for reasons long past "Seriously you think I give a flying monkey as to why it's your business"** -- and enjoying the slacker mall life-style while silently stewing "Gee, I hope to have 1) fallen in love, and 2) marry Elijah Wood."*** by the time I was twenty-five.

And even LONGER before that, at stunningly naive age of seventeen, as a High School Senior I was daydreaming of my ten year reunion and flying back home with my "handsome and successful husband"**** after having jet-setted around the world due to my "book tour."*****

Oh, and don't get me started as to what type of future I was thinking about during my teenybopper years... let me just say that I too was one of those girls that wished for a Cinderella-type story with a Backstreet Boy* prince.

By the way; to the Jonas Brothers' fans: Good luck with YOUR Cinderella love story!

Anyway I digress...

Thirty. Wow. Seriously? Thirty.

Am I a decade too early to have a mid-life crisis?

It's not like I'm unhappy with how my life has turned out; quite the opposite actually.

• I've got a job (which is better than most people during our nation's current financial state).
• I'm not living at "home" (granted it's a small studio/room owned by my grandparents, BUT I'm still paying rent...).
• I've got my health (which I should probably take better care of, BUT damn it who can say no to Starbucks? Seriously?).
• I've travelled off "the rock" (only to fall in love with ANOTHER island**, but that's another story).
• I'm happily engaged (a prince of boy band he is not, a prince of darkness*** however...).

So you see, my life is pretty sweet considering that my brain can't seem to comprehend that I'm adding ANOTHER decade onto my existence.

Thirty. Damn. I don't feel it yet that's what I'll be in another four years.

Thirty.

And I'll STILL get carded at the freakin' BARS!

... wait, huh? Oh yeah... I'll STILL get carded at the bars!

Because despite turning the big bad 3-0, I'll still look like a tiny 2-0.

Wow. Finally it pays to being a short Asian girl... and next time I'm at the bar, I'll certainly drink to that.

But before that, I'll gladly show you my I.D.

My lovely colored footnotes
* - Retail rocks!... no, seriously it does....
** - No offense. But yeah, flying monkeys. Call me Elphaba.
*** - Pre-John Cusack, Post-Nick Carter.
**** - At the time, preferably a Backstreet Boy or N Syncer.
***** - J.K. Rowling and Stephenie Meyer has since jaded my outlook on female writers... Mark my words; Zombie Love Story.
* - Nick Carter.
** - Manhattan.
*** - To my Babe, Satan wants his fire-and-brimstone throne back...