I've always been called an old soul, so I'm relieved to be turning thirty. That may seem unexpected, but after much reflection, it is the best description of how I feel to be hitting this milestone.

I've never been one to make a big deal about milestone birthdays. Eighteen was celebrated by opening a checking account, and a waitress spilled a tray of drinks on me when I turned twenty-one. But I do believe that milestones allow us a good stopping point to reflect on what we have achieved so far, and what we still have yet to do.

This past week I attended a workshop on the first five pages by Laura Drake, a best-selling romance author. What helped me clarify my reflection came in her answer to a question from the audience. "What is a character's fatal flaw?"

Laura's answer was simple. "A fatal flaw is something we misunderstood as a child that shapes our whole lives. The character must recognize, understand, and accept their fatal flaw by the end of the story. That is how they grow." The mood changed in the room as people called out examples of their fatal flaws, and others revisited their childhoods in somber reflection. Mine hit with alarming clarity.

For most of my life, I felt like the ugliest person in the room. No one ever told me I was ugly, but as Laura Drake pointed out, children misunderstand the world around them, and I was no exception. My teeth were horrible, and I had more orthodontia than anyone I know. My acne persisted despite creams, washes, and prescription drugs. All of my clothes, which never seemed to fit quite right, came from the clearance rack or were hand-me-downs on their third tour of duty. In high school, I stopped eating breakfast and lunch for years. Everything from my hair, face, body, and skin, I hated.

Looking back, I can see how much this affected me. Is it any wonder I spend good money on clothes and skincare today? Back then, if I had to present a project in school, I would smear my otherwise solid grade rather than risk putting my ugliness on display in front of the class. Throughout elementary, middle, and high school I kept at least four pencils sharpened to perfection in my desk so I wouldn't need to stand at the sharpener where everyone could stare at my ugliness. As if that wasn't enough, every week in church, I would pray that I would wake up different, beautiful.

Whether it was an off-hand comment by a well-meaning family member or friend, or the absence of compliments when people heaped praised on others in the room, everything seemed to confirm what my mirror told me every morning. They never meant to be hurtful and would be devastated to know how much those moments changed me, but I believe one such comment was the pivotal point in my life.

I can still hear their voice when a person who I loved and admired once turned and said, "You know Kathryn, if you can't be pretty, you gotta be smart."

Now, this is perhaps not the best way to address a young, adolescent girl with self-confidence issues, and again the person saying this comment never meant any harm. We've all said regrettable remarks, but it was that moment that changed how I thought. I was smart, and for the first time, I started to think about being smart more than being pretty.

So why am I telling you all this? Well, because of that comment I made a list of things I wanted to do before I turned thirty. Why thirty? No clue. Probably because it seemed like a distant age, one by which I should have it all figured out.

Here's my list.

1. Graduate high school and college

2. Make money and have a retirement (Can you tell my parents had an influence?)

3. Buy a car with a sunroof and a house with a garden

4. Get a pet

5. Explore the world

6. Get married and have a kid

7. Write a book

The coolest part is I did them all right on time.

I'll be the first to admit this list explains my caffeine addiction. But my drive to be smart and successful because I wasn't pretty had an unintended consequence. As my resume and family grew, I stopped trying to look like someone else. I didn't stop caring. I just had other things to focus on.

So I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but one day when I glanced in the mirror, the shy girl with flaws under acne was gone. Looking back at me was an accomplished wife, mother, teacher, and writer. I had finally grown to be the person I had always wanted to be. I'm not saying I'm a swan, but I know what it's like to think you're an ugly duckling.

I write a lot about time, and I am keenly aware that I am racing the clock to live a life well-lived before my time runs out. Hitting this milestone is cleansing in a way. I have realized that while I can't go back and make little Kathryn feel beautiful, I can be someone she would be proud of.

Here's to the next thirty.

Kathryn