Thirty

So my friends, this week marked my 29 and a half birthday. You know what this means right? Yep, in six months time i will be living it up in Paris-tanned, relaxed, hopefully drunk and definitely 30.
I'm not sure if i am ready for thirty. Here is why:

I still paint each nail and different colour and think it looks rad.
I have no Private Health Insurance or ambulance cover.
The thought of having a child makes me want to call The Department of Children's Services.
I think "because i don't want to" is a good enough reason to not get a real job/wash my hair/do the dishes/eat stuff that might contain nutrients.
I shop at Sportsgirl.
I have no idea how much i get paid, who i have my super with and which tax bracket i fall into.
I also don't know my own post code.
I watch Gossip Girl and The Hills and can relate to the characters and their dilemmas about hair straighteners and boys.
I can't drink a full strength coffee without going a bit stupid.
What is the difference between a Pinot Noir, Cab Sav and a Shiraz anyway?

But you know what? I am actually okay with all these things. And i have not always been. Maybe that is what 30 will be for me.