Feeling My Age: Flirting With The Dirty Thirty

“Wow you are 29?! You look so much younger than that!”

I am going to start with this: I am not one of those assholes who thinks 30 is old. The year between 29 and 30 is like a year long existential power hour. There are however some social taboos that start becoming very real once you are out of your 20s.

I don’t have a burning desire for children so I’m not mad about my ticking biological clock or rapidly rotting eggs, but it’s definitely my mother’s scare tactic for me to lose weight and find a “good man.” I do all I can to take care of myself and my cats, I couldn’t imagine taking care of a husband and kids, no bueno.

A lot of my friends are living that life though, the fetuses and shiny diamond rings of Facebook are piling up in my feed. My best friend has a beautiful daughter, she is all the kid I need in my life. I want to spoil and nurture her, help teach her the ways of the world. I love when she says Auntie Catherine, it is the cutest thing ever to hear a tiny person who is learning language say your name so distinctly.

I went to a place called Lilydale, a community of psychics and mediums, and two different psychics told me that my grandmother was with me and that she was telling me that there was a baby in my life that I needed to have an influence on and spend more time with. Even from beyond the grave, grandmas give advice to live by.

There are several types of little old lady out there that I strive to become. The cute little granny is my favorite. Easter and Dyngus day always make me think of my little Polish grandmother. I think that all of the little Polish grandmas who have passed should be allowed to rise from the dead at Easter time. Little sweet zombie babushka-wearing darlings armed with a coil of kielbosa, pierogis, and a half melted butter lamb.

butter lamb mac and cheese

I am definitely the woman who wants to feed everyone when they come over. I will throw together an elaborate meal for surprise guests in an instant, it’s a gift. I love sharing food with people and cooking, being a sweet lil old lady is a life goal of mine.

I am proud to own pink flamingos and valor sweatsuits. My everyday look is very reminiscent of a high school art teacher with a few marbles missing.

Then there are the crazy old hags, the spinsters who have a million cats and scare the neighborhood children. Get off my lawn! Frazzled grey hair and a house that looks like a delapatated witch mansion full of cracked porcelain dolls covered in dust. I don’t see that happening to me.

It’s weird to start feeling my age and notice how old you are in comparison to some things. I was dumpster diving with a group of 16 year olds the other day. I was literally corrupting the youth and never felt so good.

I am a late bloomer when it comes to a lot of things in life. I wanted to make sure my brain was fully formed before I fucked it up with drugs and partying. I already feel the scene shifting to people who are at least 5-7 years younger than me.

It is weird when you realize that you are the only one in the room that was even born in the 80s. When I check an ID at the bar and see 1993 I am like whoa you can drink.

I missed my 10 year high school reunion, I don’t know what I would have even done with that. I feel like half of them are married with kids, many divorced, a third are now out as gay, a handful have died, some are in jail, some are in their parents basement playing video games, and the rest are just floundering like me, not really successful but totally surviving. How does one measure success anyways?

I’m not even 30 and my knees hurt when I get up. Unexplainable pains in parts you didn’t know existed. Rickety crickety crackity bones, adding ibuprofen to my daily vitamins, knowing that it doesn’t get easier.

I know that now it is even more important for me to take care of my body. If I don’t change my attitude towards food and exercise its all going to start hurting a hell of a lot more.Easter with grandpa

I love who I am and it doesn’t matter what number my age is, I refuse to grow up. I still get amazed when people think I should be responsible for something.

Like when a young kid asks you to buy him booze. I love the rush of being asked for my id then get mad when I can’t find it and get the dreaded X’s even though I am clearly old enough.

I secretly love the idea of someone thinking I am under 21, how cute. I am not very good at adulting. I can’t even pay my damn bills on time, it’s like a totally irresponsible mental block.

I definitely don’t fully have my shit together, whatever that means. I remember thinking of 30 year olds as having “it” all figured out, yep no clue. Age is just a number babe, I will be that guy picking up young girls with my sweet ride outside of the high school. Different levels of maturity.

There are a lot of important life altering things that happen in your twenties to form who you are. I for one am excited for my dirty thirties. I am starting to feel “success” like when I do something people notice and respect it. This is the time when my generation takes over the torch, it is our time to fix the world, or at least do damage control.

Facebook Comments

Join the discussion

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.