I will tell you what being 30 is about: It is about throwing up.

I have been thirty years old for approximately two days now. Of those two days, fifty percent of my time has been consumed by the stomach flu from hell.

No one tells you that once you turn thirty, half your life will be spent embracing the toilet bowl as though it were a cold porcelain mother that never hugs you back. Well, for those of you still under the age, I offer you TRUTHS that those over thirty NEVER warn you of. Based on my own personal assessments, I have gleaned that when you reach the age of thirty, you will experience:

One chapped lip. Not two, just one. The top one.

Profuse stomach cramps and vomiting (or an urgent, frustrating, unrequited need to puke.)

A profound dislike of birthday cake (unrelated to the flu, most likely related to having eaten half your body weight in cake on the day of celebration.)

Uncontrollable urges to tell other people (in their twenties) that they will understand "when they are thirty."

A frequent need to locate at least two mirrors in your house, in order to ascertain if you have suddenly acquired a "mom butt."

Your tailbone will hurt. This may be due to the fact that you have propped a video rocker on the seat of your desk chair to achieve the height necessary to reach your keyboard, rather than buy an adjustable desk chair. Or it's just because you're thirty. Probably the latter.

You will start thinking things like, "I should probably start doing kegels," and "I wonder how long I will keep all my original teeth?" This is just creepy.

You will face the painful realization that you weren't a teenager "a few years ago," but rather "half your life ago". On the upside, this places more psychological distance between the you of now, and the you with bad eighties bangs.

Your kids will remind you that thirty is REALLY OLD! Then, you will necessarily remind them that you may be old, but they still can't outrun you, and you know where the haircutting paraphernalia is.