30s

If they could go back, a lot of women in their 30s would reassure their 20-something selves that they really don’t need to worry. “No one has it all figured out yet. You're going to be fine."

Having been born in 1982, I qualify as a member of the millennial generation, but just by a hair. Often, I feel like an old lady, sometimes the last to catch on to to the fads claimed by this group — and when I do, I fall hard. (I’m looking at you, leggings-as-pants.)

S.L.U.T. (single life under thirty) is officially over and you’re still banging your vibrator. Well, doesn't this suck? Who was prepared for your 30s being so super-lame? Your hair is turning gray, your boobs are getting wrinkles, and what the hell is this on your face? No. Way. Chin. Hair. Not to mention you can no longer drink without getting a hangover.