At work, I am a young graduate. But I’m not ‘young’. Not as young as the rest of the young graduates. I regularly get asked to show my ID when I buy a bottle of Martini. And regularly I get to see these funny looks when I say that I am 30+. It kinda makes me smile.

On monday I turned 31, oh my gosh. A colleague understood 21 and immediately took it as the – my wishful – truth. Until I said I think I am old. It’s easy to look young,: the advantages of an ageless look, but the package of a thirty something. It’s nice to be able to act young, but it’s also nice to share my experiences to my twenty something friends. The struggle of your thesis, looking for your first job, being single, the thirties dilemma etcetera.

Some people expect from a 31 year old person, they have bought a house, have babies, high heels (which I always thought older women have) and a ring on the finger. When I was 16 I thought I would have children at 28 and I would be married by the time I turned 30. Reality? I am 31, have a rented house, no kids, wear sneakers and have no ring on my finger. Am I disappointed? No. I am very happy. If I want something, I create it. I work hard for something I like and I’m not afraid to go outside my comfort zone. And currently that doesn’t work out with a marriage, children and high heels;-) But I do believen that combining it with chasing dreams is possible.

So Sunday I celebrated my 31st (pinterest) party with love. In my rented house without children, completed with high tea, white balloons on the ceiling and my friends and family to create an atmosphere. And I even tried to make oreo lollipops. However, with the necessary Evelyn flaws (melting chocolate in a frying pan? Not a good idea). But it was a great day!