It's no secret that I am staring down the barrel of the gun known as the big 3-0. And although I am excited for what my thirties might bring, of course there is some trepidation.
Remember when you were sixteen, riding shotgun in your sister's car with the windows down, blasting your Grunge '96 mix tape? All you could feel was the wind in your hair and the sun on your face. You had just held a boy's hand and were in love with being in love. Or something like that. But at that moment, 30 was a far, far thing of the future, something that could not even be fathomed it was so OLD and far away.
This past weekend clarified the 'dreaded' age of 30 for me.
Friday I attended a surprise party for a good friend. It was an awesome evening, with a bunch of us just sitting around, eating fancy cheeses and drinking fancy drinks. Flashback to sixteen: you would spent your entire Friday night trying to find someone to buy you alcohol for the party you were going to the next day. At said party, you drank your face off and not a morsel of food was consumed because there WASN'T ANY. Nobody thought about that part. Your night was spent lying on a hard floor without a pillow and blanket, because you didn't think about that part either. All you were thinking about was 'PARTY!!' Planning ahead when you are a kid just doesn't happen. Now we get to enjoy parties with lots of food. And that's what makes a party for me folks. No, the ONLY thing that makes a party for me.
Later that night I also stopped by another friend's birthday party that she was celebrating at a local pub. (Close to home? Works for me!!). The place was packed and there were not many seating options available. So I sat myself down on the stage opposite where my friend was sitting with her sister and a bunch of other friends. With a drink in my hand, I could not help staring at the lot of them. They were all so pretty, and hip, and they all wore nice scarves. They were also all 'thirtysomethings'. You know, that dreaded group of people you saw coming over to hang out with your mom when you were young. Remember? All those old ladies who would stop by and have fancy coffee with your old mom and talk about politics and art. How BORING were they right? They spoke a completely different language than you and there was no way you were ever going to understand it. Except now you do. Because you are one of THEM.
Watching all of these people hanging out made me very happy, and very thoughtful. It made me realize that turning 30 is no big deal. I remember thinking to myself "I don't mind this". The last remnants of not wanting to take that step into old people-dom flew out of my mind. Because when you are a kid you promise yourself you will never get that old. But it happens whether you want it to or not.
This is a hard transitional period. Your young little shit self is fighting with your budget keeping adult self. It all depends on how you choose to see it through. With open arms, as another saga of your life that you will make sure is as golden as the rest of them, or resisting it until one day it stops knocking and comes barreling in on you and flattens you under its fury of thunder thighs and saggy boobs?
I choose to let it in right away, but gently. I still have plenty of that young girl left in there. Only she is happier now that she can just buy that bottle of wine and enjoy it with awesome friends who serve delicious fancy cheese.
Thirty-something is still going to see me waving my bony middle finger at it though. After all, I only agreed to gently, not easily.
