This week I will be turning 30. Up until now I haven't given it that much thought - no one seems to really *be* where they were supposed to be at the age of 30, so I don't feel like I've failed in anyway. The goalposts seem to be continually changing as we plug along in time. A few centuries ago at this age I could have been celebrating the birth of my third grandchild while sucking on a piece of chicken I couldn't chew with my one tooth. Here in 2010 I can still chew chicken quite well. Perhaps not the most amazing accomplishment, but something a person can be a little proud of.
Yes, that's a straw. And yes, I'm grasping the crap out of it.
There hasn't been a big change between leaving my 20's and teetering on the edge of my 30's. There's a freckle under my eyebrow that I swear is closer to my eye than it used to be, and other subtle hints of gravity's slow but persistent work on my body. I'm not overly concerned about that, at least not yet. Most worrying would be the melodramatic mental state I spent a good couple of days in earlier this week - I had actually managed to convince myself that my life was half over. I laid awake one night pondering my mortality. What happens next? Where do we all go? Is it just lights out? Are there parallel universes? Will there be some transfer of energy? Do I have a soul, and is it shiny enough to get to heaven or did I really fuck myself over?
There were some tears, a bit of anguish, self-pitying sighs, and an evening where I was an inconsolable douche to my poor husband. I won't lie, his effortless and seamless transition from 29 to 30 was lovely when it happened a couple of years ago, but now has left me in a state of hormonal piss-off. Why is it so easy for him? Why is his mind uncluttered and carefree, while mine is a looming clock screaming tick-tock-your-life-is-over in a booming, cackling voice? I decided to stop being irrationally angry, and just ask my husband. Perhaps he had some fantastic advice, an amazing outlook on life he could share. Maybe he IS bothered by age, and my recent warbling and histrionics have left him little room to share these feelings with me? I decided to ask.
Me: Darling, why am I being so ridiculous about a stupid birthday when you passed it without even noticing?
Husband: Because I'm awesome, and you're a girl.
Word of the day: Thespian.
Used in a sentence: "What do you think I am, some kind of thespian?" asked the woman indignantly. "I don't think that matters, ma'am, I'm a married man" said the officer "but right now I need you to stop putting on a show and tell me where you were at 11 o'clock this evening."
When I was turning thirty, my biological clock started booming, so I had another baby. It helped, actually. I had a spongebob cake, too.
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