My best friend turns 30 this weekend and I know I’ll struggle to put on a brave face for her – because I’m panicking myself.
My turning 30 crisis is officially in full swing, people. Whether you think I’m being overly dramatic or empathise with my fear, the fact is myself and my friends – the ones I’ve known since we were nine years old with the world at our feet – are getting old. And there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.
I have palpitations. And I’m perspiring. Could this age milestone signal the changing of my body clock too?
Denise Randel is my oldest best friend who I’ve travelled the world with. I did the girly Ibiza holiday with her, clubbed every weekend with her and shared so many ups and downs with her.
I want to be there for her as she approaches her big 30 this weekend. We are like two peas in a pod and she shares my panic about no longer being in her 20s.
She’s decided to throw a huge joint 30th birthday party with her fiancé and everyone attending has to come in some sort of fancy dress.
Movie stars and pop stars is the theme and it’s been planned for over a year. Her fiancé, Del, has gone to extreme measures and has spent a small fortune making his outfit.
I couldn’t possibly give too much away, but let’s just say Denise has a battle on her hands if she thinks she’s going to automatically hog the limelight. Haha.
Their birthday party presents some predicaments for me.
One, what do I go as? Two, I know we can’t possibly afford the extravagant outfit Matt wants to buy –remember the Halloween clown outfit that nearly made us bankrupt?
And three, what should an almost-30, respectable young lady wear?
I came to the conclusion that I should forget all about reason, so I’ve bought a too-sexy-for-me-really Watchmen costume, complete with suspenders and too much PVC.
I don’t know how Denise will cope with her coming of age, but I know how I will – by denying it my friends and going all out in the style stakes.
Let the party commence!