Since I'm 30 now, I thought this was really cool...

In Praise of the 30’s…
Yeah, There’s the sexual-peak thing. And that’s part of it. But in so many other ways, too, a woman in her fourth decade represents pure, unlimited potential. If she conforms to the law of averages, a woman in her… thirties has run nearly half her mortal course; in a culture obsessed with beginnings and endings, she is in the middle. She is Greenwich meantime. She is the fifth inning of a ball game that’s just now being made official.But that doesn’t make her boring; that makes her balanced, centered, finally having climbed to the top of her life’s tipping point and stopped to enjoy the view. She has reached her proverbial peak (including, most famously, in the sack—and that, my young brothers, is the absolute truth). Now she is her most perfect self, locked solid into her personal best. She has stopped reading People. But she hasn’t quit drinking beer from the bottle and she still isn’t shopping from Talbots. More than anything, she is a body and soul that have lost their edges and replaced them with a kind of give, lined but unwrinkled. It runs deeper than that, too. Having done so much but with so much left to do, she makes it seem, lying next to her, that she is capable of anything. She is satisfied but still hungry; she is at peace with her universe but still not past trying to change it. She is experience without weariness, love without complacency, comfort without the yawning. She has found her equilibrium, and in her company we can next find ours. She is steady, in the very best sense. Women in their thirties are our tightrope walkers, trapeze swingers, and plate spinners. They are our acrobats.