I’m about to enter the fourth decade of my life. Tomorrow. TOMORROW!
I have tried unsuccessfully to halt time with my mind power. Remember how I wrote here about how it’s really no big deal and I’m ready to embrace it? Well, I changed my mind. I’m suddenly uncomfortable with the thought. I know: It’s just a number. And everyone who lives to at least 31 goes through it. But I’ve noticed a few things happening to me that nobody else seems to be talking about. Those who hit 30 don’t tell the whole story. It’s like the birthing process. After you have gone through it, you say, ‘Oh, it’s not so bad after all. Tee hee hee.’ But that’s because you’re blinded by a cute little baby and plenty of drugs. So you keep mum about the fact that you laid out a hot turd on the table, and then your friend freaks out because she thinks she’s disgusting when she lays out a hot turd on the table. Guys, we gotta tell each other this stuff. For each other. For mankind.
So here are some things that have been happening to me…Er, I mean… They’re happening to a friend of mine. And I heard about them. So I am going to just pass them on. For the children:
1. Random hairs. Thankfully, I am not a man, so they aren’t yet coming out of my ears. But they are popping up in the most random spots. I pulled a big black one from my stomach right now. And another off my chin yesterday. My chin. I mean, my friend did that. Yeah, not me.
2. Adult acne. We’ve covered this. I read up on it. Estrogen levels begin to drop at 29.5, according to Marie Claire. Great. Lovely. Thanks.
3. Bones. Whenever my right knee bends, it sounds like a newborn chick is crunching itself out of its shell and vomiting. Yes, that’s exactly the sound.
4. Metabolism. I used to wish myself skinny, and I’d be skinny. Now, my hips just grow.
5. Cellulite. Yep. There’s more of it. Either it’s because I’m getting older or perhaps it’s because I spent the last year eating absolutely anything I wanted. I mean, that’s what my friend did. And said.
6. Brain. I claim to be such a grammar and spelling stickler but lately that shit comes out all wrong. I spelled ‘zoo’ z-e-w the other day. Zew? Is that a gross version of the zoo?
Ok, so there. It’s out there. Unlike those before me, I have laid it all out for those who come after: 6 reasons why 30 IS BAD despite the fact that everyone says it’s not so bad.
Time for the positive spin. Because that’s who I’ve become in this old age: a quite positive gal. Thankfully I didn’t become a janitor or ice cream man, the two professions in which I hoped to succeed back when my 8-yr-old self was dreaming about my 30-yr-old self. Ice cream man would have required a sex change, and I’m saving that until at least 55 (I want to get as much vagina action as possible beforehand). Oh yeah, positive spin: Six reasons I am ecstatic about turning 30:
1. I don’t have to go to any more tailgates, red cup parties, or beer pong events. Sure, thirty-yr-olds do those things. But I don’t like standing around, getting wasted, spilling beer on myself, and talking about sports or who I know. I’ve never really liked it, and everyone’s always given me shit about not partaking. Now that I’m thirty, I finally qualify for the ‘too old for that shit’ excuse.
2. By now, I have learned to trust myself. Phew. What a relief. Life’s gonna be just fine (And if it isn’t, I have a new theory about what happens after life; I’ll get to this some day when we have more time and we’re a little tipsy and it seems like there’s nothing else to talk about.).
3. The next ten years are filled with absolute possibility. I’m reading a choose-your-own-adventure, and the amount of adventure before me is overwhelming in the best possible way. Shit’s gonna happen, y’all.
4. Thirty is serious. People will hear that I’ve made it into the secret club of thirty and really want to take me seriously. Maybe, you know, someone might say… “Hey, Laurenne. You’re 30. You want to write for the Sarah Silverman show?” or perhaps, “Wow! You’re 30? I’m a literary agent, and I’ve been looking for a thirty-yr-old to write a very popular book series that will lead to movies and action figures.”
5. I’ve been contributing quite nicely to social security for 16 years. I’m not rich, but it’s nice that I no longer have to share a bed with five girls when we go on vacation or ask for a cup for water and then fill it with Coke or say, ‘Well, your tacos were two dollars more than mine’ when splitting a bill or ask friends for gas money. Finances of the early twenties sucked.
6. I have been alive 10,950 days. That’s some serious experience up in this here noggin. I have heard, read, seen, smelled, and touched a whole lotta stuff. I know what’s up. Yep, I know what’s up.
After all, I guess 30 is cool. What up, Thirty? How are you today? Come on in. I accept you and all that you are. Except for the chin hairs and cellulite. Please. Give those to Forty, and we’ll be all good.
