Wednesday, May 5, 2010
On Vanity and Turning 30
Maybe its the sunshine, or the lush smell of spring in the air, but I woke up this morning, groggy and feeling every minute of my almost 30 years spent on earth. I'm not quite there yet - not till' next month, but:
It seems that rather than just enjoy the party hat and shots of tequila, this year I'm actually taking stock. Am I successful? Am I aging gracefully? Do I have any gray hairs?
Fuck Fuck Fuck. I'm afraid to examine that last one too closely...
But seriously - birthdays commemorate the passage of time, and looking back I don't think I've feared or felt one so keenly as this. *another* decade down, and now I'm painfully aware of my own mortality in a way I couldn't fathom at 20.
So what's a gal to do? Well, I figure I should make the most of this hoopla, and have been scouring the interwebs for gift ideas for myself. Before I sound too materialistic, I'd like to note that this is a first for me. But there is a decidedly gleeful feeling in clicking the "Add to Wishlist" button on an item that you would never buy for yourself. I feel bloated with consumerism, soothing my wounded pride with whimsical abandon and vanity.
For now, I'm going to ignore the fact that my most recent purchase was for wrinkle-ass-kicking foundation, or that the Retro Rock music station is playing a whole metric shit-ton of my favorite non-retro music.
Looking ahead, maybe my thirties won't be so bad. I'm generally healthy (alcohol is an excellent preservative), and am avidly working towards fulfilling many of my dreams. I'm married to the best damned man in the universe, and even made a freaking adorable kiddo. So time passes... so what? Screw you calendar, and your accurate time-keeping. I'm only as old as I feel!
Listening to: Nature/Nurture - 010