So I’m 30 today. Yay! Though I have to admit I’m not in my best ‘yay-30’ state of mind.
I’m not having a third-life crisis or anything – the aging part of things is not exactly what has me down. I think I actually hit my noticeable-aging dip back at 25. That’s right around when I stopped being ID’d at the liquor store. Like one day it just stopped – I wondered if my face had actually fallen. It’s also when a slowing metabolism caught up with me and I added a bit of extra padding around the hips and waist, though luckily wedding-induced stress got that totally under control (and only at the price of limiting the enjoyment of my own wedding!). I developed aches where no aches were before and said aches took longer to heal. Dark days they were.
Besides this gradual slide into decrepitude, I’ve managed to keep my body mostly intact. I probably look better now than throughout most of my life, having finally discovered ways to make the best of my flat hair and makeup that doesn’t immediately slick off my face. I’ve also managed to find a pretty good balance of eating well while maintaining my enjoyment of cheese and wine, my face is still more bothered by acne than wrinkles (though having to deal with both absolutely blows), and since I dye my hair, I’m blissfully ignorant of any grey hair.
So aging shmaging I say. Been there done that, ready for more.
It is its closely correlated cousin – the growing up – that has me not quite feeling the ‘yay-30’ at the moment. It reliably causes people to move, build their own families, find busy careers, shift their priorities, and have babies. It’s all just so damn rude.
Last night I found out my two closest friends will not be home for Christmas. It’s the first time in all the years they’ve been living across the country. Even as we all started to drift onto paths that made other visits during the year tougher, I always thought I could count on Christmas as the one time of year we get to cozy up for quality time to reconnect. The realization that this was no longer a given was a real wake-up call.
Things are already changing and we haven’t even introduced the true game-changer into the picture yet. Hint: it poops and screams and leaves your body a fun-house-mirror version of what it used to be. From what I hear at least. And speaking of which, my sister-in-law just announced she’s pregnant (the other already has kids), which just leaves John and I as the targets of all future baby-making questions and rising eyebrows and lets-see-if-she-drinks-wine glances at the dinner table. My response: fingers in ears, la-la-la-la-la-la-la. Oh hand me the wine will you? La-la-la-la-la-la. Yeah, just pass the whole bottle. La-la-la-la-la-la.
All this growing up business means a different landscape on this birthday. My plans to celebrate with my friends, who are spread far and wide living busy lives with their careers and their partners, have thus far not panned out. I am still hoping to head out for a belated dancing night at the end of the month if we can find a weekend that works.
But in the meantime, there was no damn way I was letting this birthday pass by without a party – it’ll just be a very exclusive party of me and John. In Vegas. We’ll be partying it up there by tonight.