I remember being 22 and looking at 30 as this far away land, of death, gloom and disappointment. Surely, my skin would sag when I hit 30. Surely, my back would ache. My hair would be FULLY grey by then. My teeth would probably rot, straight out my mouth, and I’d spend an inordinate amount of money seeking the correct fitting dentures. It would most definitely be a catastrophe of epic proportions. I thought this on the nights, I’d floss twice, and apply gobs of smelly anti-aging lotion all over my body, (in addition to the vaseline that I’d use to trap moisture in my skin).
And to think — all this dread, directed at this NUMBER, and for what? Now that I am thirty–in fact–weeks away from 31–I have to laugh. What the hell was I so worked up about? 30 is fantastic. More than fantastic! I am happier at 30 than I was at 20! I spent my 20’s in a constant state of worry: worry about passing exams, about applying to internships, about getting jobs, about finding a dude that was a good balance of “treating me like a princess” and “treating me like shit”. I remember one night, towards the end of college, when I was so overcome with worry, that I got up, put on my tap shoes, and tap danced for one straight hour, downstairs, alone. I just HAD to get all the worry out of me. Then, by about twenty-five, when things were starting to settle off, I began to worry that I hadn’t accomplished enough. Britney Spears, Beyonce and all these other people my age, were millionaires. And what about me? When was I gonna write a novel?
And finally….at 27, when I wrote one novel, I worried that people would like it and then forget about me. So naturally, I had to write THREE more novels THE SAME YEAR! Obviously. Because that’s what successful commercial artists do–they kept it coming! They meet the demand!
And before you knew it…poof….I got married, bought an apartment, and turned the dreaded 30. I felt so totally tired and burned out, but still, very happy. My skin didn’t sag (well, only a little), and I went to the dentist–not even one cavity! Sure, I had a few more gray hairs, but I compensated–I started adding some golden highlights in with my dark brown tresses. It was fine.
Then something else happened. I started to choose my friends. I took a look at my life, and decided I was too tired for high maintenance friends. Sure, I appreciate seeing my high maintenance friends, every now and then, but I decided to stop going out of my way to maintain the friendship. In my twenties, my friends were so special to me. I used to tell people I was dating, that they could come and go, but my friends would be there for life.
But you know what? Some of my friends were just plain nuts. I could enjoy their nuttiness at 29, but once I hit 30, that shipped sailed quick.
And now, here I am, on my way down this decade’s short highway to 40, and I couldn’t be more content. I don’t worry about ANYTHING, anymore. I live my entire life, the way I want to live it. I work-out, eat healthily, and have cultivated a group of friends, who are low-maintenace, yet essential to my happiness, and I make an effort to speak to them every day, and see them as often as possible. I read the books I WANT TO READ–and not the books, SOCIETY THINKS I SHOULD READ. I barely read or watch the news at all. I am no longer interested in small talk, therefore, I have no need to know about what is trending on the world’s stage. And you know what else? I don’t feel bad about things. I don’t think I’m not doing enough, or accomplishing enough. I’m working hard to live in the present and enjoy life, each happy moment at a time. I’ve run out of apologies, give me any label you want, including “bitch”.
I certainly could not do THAT at 22.
So, if this is the year you turn 30, or maybe next year, or in 5 years, look forward to it. Don’t waste your time dreading it, like I did. Don’t sacrifice an hour of sleep, to tap dance your troubles away! Don’t you have job applications and boyfriend drama to worry about? Isn’t that enough?
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La Dolce Vita 