Entering another decade of life (also known as goodbye, 20-something).

Sorry, there’s no recipe here.  I just turned 30, so I’ve been a little busy thinking about mortality and life insurance.

In all seriousness, though, there’s no recipe in this post, so if you’re okay with that, then please, by all means, read on about my feelings on turning another decade older.

I’m the kind of person who gets carded at the grocery store to buy wine, then gets accused that I’m using a fake ID to buy said wine, because my picture on my ID doesn’t look like me.  I’ve also been told I sound very “young” on the phone (e.g., like a 10 year old child), and have been mistaken (by both children and adults alike) as a middle school student.  I also had pink, purple, and blue streaks in my hair until this past summer, and my winter hat collection is likely identical to one owned by a 10 year old child (you can never have too many pom poms on hats, let’s just put it out there).  So, when I announced that I was turning 30 last week at work, I received a lot of confused looks and comments like, “You do NOT look like a 30 year old!”  Which, I took as a compliment, but also as somewhat of a dis.  I mean, at some point, people do start looking their age, right?  Isn’t 30 kind of at that point?  And once I started reflecting more on my impending birthday, I began noticing more things that I’ve ignored for the past few years because I wasn’t at 30 yet.  Not mentally, chronologically, or emotionally.  No way.  But upon reflection, here are some things that may be signs that I’m actually growing out of my 20’s: the fact that I  feel weird walking into American Eagle at the mall.  To the point where now, I just can’t even do it.  The fact that I judge short skirts.  They need to at least be wearing some serious leggings underneath.  Not okay.  The fact that I get into bed at 10.  When I get in earlier, I do a mental happy-dance.  The fact that I start stifling my yawns around 10 pm on weekend nights.  The fact that I get indigestion when I eat fries.  Every. Time.  The fact that I am seriously considering supplementing my daily vitamin regiment with some glucosamine and chrondroitin pills for joint pain (although, that doesn’t really count, since my knee has been killing me since I started running a few years back).  The fact that I actually do, in fact, use coupons now.  The fact that I considered raking our front lawn this fall.  The fact that my prescription went up on my glasses.  The fact that I catch myself using the phrase, “When I was in school, I wouldn’t have ever thought of doing X,Y,Z!”.  The fact that my facebook feed tells me many of my acquaintances and friends’ children are over the age of 5, now.  We’re past marriage announcements and 1st birthdays, people.  We’re already at 5, 6, and 7th birthdays!  What?!  When did this all happen?  When did I start getting wrinkles ON MY HANDS?  When did I start preferring to stay in on a Friday night than going downtown to hit up some bars?  When did I start obsessing over our two dogs and referring to them as my fur-babies?!  

So now, I’m 30.  And, strangely, I’m relieved.  I’m relieved because I think, when I was still in my late 20’s, I had this misunderstanding that I still had to feel like I was in my early 20’s.  I was in denial, essentially, and especially because I was still in college, technically, as a graduate student.  I still had to embrace my Thursday nights like they were the start to my weekend.  I still had to take midterms and study for a grade.  I still had to think I’m young and carefree, when really, I had a real-person job and couldn’t just say, hey, I’m just going to go work out and roll into my 10 am class in sweats.  Now that I’m 30, I can give myself permission to be okay with going to bed before 10 if I want to.  I can be okay with all of the things I didn’t really allow myself to stop and think about when I was in my late 20’s.  I think that’s the grown-up thing to do. 🙂


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