[Miss Austen print]
Prologue: I'm turning 30 on Saturday. I'm [mostly] okay with this.
Unexpected side effect of marriage: It's good for the face.
So is age, apparently.
Sure, there's a wrinkle (or three) across my forehead that wasn't there before. My once-oily complexion now requires daily moisturization. I don't get carded anymore.
I can honestly say I feel more beautiful now than I ever did at 21.
I'm just learning now what Jane Austen has been telling us for years:
"It sometimes happens, that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before; and, generally speaking, if there has been neither ill health nor anxiety, it is a time of life at which scarcely any charm is lost."
30 is the new 20, right? Scratch that. I don't want to be 20 again. I'm going to be friends with 30.