Fun & Famous

DIRTY THIRTY DIARY #3 -THIRTY

fable, fact or dream

Just one weekend, two days, forty-eight hours and probably a whole bunch of minutes and then it's happening. Me, that is, but ‘she’ sounds so pleasantly safe from my bed. My twenty something is turning thirty. You don't need a something for that, right? Nope, nothing light about it. But I'll tackle that milestone, no problem. And then I'll also settle my facts, fables, and dreams that come with the invisible threshold of that age limit.

1. Someone once said that every kilo sticks to you after your thirtieth. My well-intentioned attempt to train off all the excess is definitely a big fat fail. But do I end up with a vacuum cleaner on the more prominent parts to banish those cozy fats? Oh my, let this be a fable, let this be a fable.

2. When you're thirty, you're later-when-I-grow-up. And as mini-me, I thought this was the age to have everything somewhat round and rolling (and thus not to be rolling with rolls). A child. We all know how that develops (if not, read on). A dog, much to the dismay of my animal-friendly broken heart, hardly barks when I come home. A grand house, ha-ha-ha (that was a very, hard, mocking laugh). Have you seen my student debt? A beautiful body, but I hopped right into a dream world. A man, score. But as a twelve-year-old, that included the ring (and that hasn't quite worked out yet). And you know? Thank God. I love that I don't meet the rules of my twelve-year-old self, because then I would have been a lawyer in the Marine like JAG and married to a man who only had looks and pulp in his brain (I had little sense for brain cells back then).

3. At thirty, you're confident. Ha, just kidding of course. You still get just as breathlessly flustered by a hellish insult wrapped as a compliment. But hey, you really do run faster without a polish out the door to get eggs at the local supermarket. The don't give a beep attitude pops up a bit more often, but never being insecure is pure nonsense. One plus: I now don't think this will go away. Ac-cep-ta-nce.

4. That thirty is not the new twenty, seems clear to me, right? But now that I'm about to enter thirty-land, it's a humongous relief that I don't have to become a younger, improved version of myself ten years older. I have a starting wrinkle, the soul of a thirty-year-old, and just someone shouted very loudly ‘Waaaaaaat?’ when I said I was turning thirty. In the pocket. Well dear everyone, I'll talk to you again when I'm older and wiser. Bye.