I turn 30 this month and frankly, I haven't spent much time thinking about it.

Actually, I've spent a lot more time trying to come up with a blog post about the fact that in this country a girl can buy by volume twice as much beer as shampoo. I realized this one morning a few weeks ago while washing my hair: most shampoo bottles are 250 ml while beer bottles are 500 ml. This of course seems like a noteworthy fact.

But it turns out this fact is neither interesting enough nor funny enough to garner its own blog post.  It seems that no amount of time (or beer for that matter) will make it funnier or more interesting so I've let it go. <em>Well, kind of</em>.

Anyhow, back to this 30 thing. I think it's great. I am going to buy myself a great new dress and maybe some heels. I'll top the look off with red lipstick and invite my friends to join me for dinner and drinks in downtown Sofia. I can't really think of a better way to celebrate.

The only thing that's not <em>so</em> great?

<em>Pimples</em>. I never imagined that being just days away from 30, I would still find myself fighting a pimple here and there. I assumed that turning 30 was a ticket to being a grown-up and with that you got to trade in pimples for gray hair. Apparently this is not the case.

There's something kind of unfair about this whole thing.  Don't worry though. There's an upside. At least, I'm a lot more adept at the art of foundation and cover-up at nearly-30 than I was at 15.