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!

Oh, wait.

Listening to: Nature/Nurture - 010
via FoxyTunes

1 comment:

  1. I hear you... and sadly i turn 30 almost exactly 1 month before you do. I'll let you know how it goes. One of the ways I have been dealing with it is to crack old jokes about myself and no longer blame dumb thoughts and bad moves on being blonde- now's it's because I'm "getting old". I know that 30 really isn't old, but I tell people that it's the first step to getting there. 30 isn't old- it's getting old, and next thing I know i will be 80 or some shit being bored out of my mind stuck at home. What I find funny about the semi-apocalyptic event is that when i tell poeple how old I am going to be, every single says, "30?! that's it!? wow you're just a baby". I know, I know... I shouldn't complain... makes me wonder how old people think I am.



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