Since I and so many of my friends are turning 30 this year, I thought this New York Times article would be appropriate: Smiling Through the 30th, a Birthday Once Apocalyptic

Once, turning 30 was slightly irritating, an embarrassing passage, and people were in no mood to broadcast the news. This was especially true for unmarried women and for men whose careers had not yet ignited. Today, when marriage is routinely delayed past 30 and the 20’s are often an extended adolescence — a time of romantic and professional hopscotch — a 30th birthday feels to many the way 21 once did, as the gateway to the more serious adult world. It is no longer a day to count up regrets stoically, but to pop the Moët & Chandon.

So far, I can relate to this article. Until this sentence:

Increasingly, it is celebrated with all the pomp of a graduation blowout or a wedding reception, with formal invitations, speeches, rented halls or yachts, and guest lists drawn from every stage of the person’s life.

Uh, okay…

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