Happy Birthday to Old Miranda (or Welcome to my Dirty 30’s)

A year from now, I want to be able to say, “when I celebrated my 30th birthday, I was barely making enough money to get by; I had just moved from my 3 bedroom house to a basement apartment because I couldn’t afford my rent. I had no couch*, no real food (certainly nothing healthy), and Chase and I were living off of not one, but TWO payday loans. I was fatter than I had been in years, felt worse than I had in ages, and looked more sickly than ever before. I was tired and stressed. I didn’t have any concrete plans for my future. Hell, I didn’t even have a vague idea about what I wanted to do with my life at all, … but now look at me!”

I want look back on my 30 year-old self and say “I don’t even recognize that person!”

*it wouldn’t fit through the doorway of our new place

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One thought on “Happy Birthday to Old Miranda (or Welcome to my Dirty 30’s)

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