Alright — I’ve alluded to this and twittered about it. It’s time to just come out into the open: I am just a month away from entering the Dark Side.
Dec 12 = My 30th Birthday.
People have tried to encourage me, saying things like “it’s not that bad” and “but 30 is the new 20!”
Bull, I say. . . BULL!
I truly have not been looking forward to this particular birthday for fifteen years. That’s right — I’m a loser like that. And the closer and closer it gets, the more my body decides to fall apart.
All of the sudden, I have MULTIPLE silver hairs. What the heck? I’m approaching the 30-Iceberg so my color decides that its time to jump ship? And, what happened to the elasticity of my facial skin? And the pores — they look different too. What’s up with that, Epidermis? You think turning 30 is an excuse to get lazy? I definitely do NOT approve.
My mom thinks its funny. I don’t know why — I certainly wouldn’t want to know I had a 30 year old daughter. But, she finds it soooo humorous; the entire time I was visiting, she loved getting in little barbs here and there. Of course, she’s a young looking 49. (That’s right — I’ll put her age out there like that. That’s what she gets!) No one EVER believes we’re mother and daughter, especially now that I’m in my later years. It’s soooo not fair to have a mom who looks younger and dresses younger. . ..and makes fun of YOU for getting old.
So, please excuse my air of mourning over the next few weeks. I can’t help it — I wish I could embrace turning 30 and jump in the air and do cartwheels. But, I can’t . . . mainly because I’m too old to move my butt that fast.
Hubby, if you’re reading this, you SO BETTER DO SOMETHING GOOD to help me cheer up on that sad, dark day. Seriously. Consider yourself warned.
Hell hath no fury like a gal turning 30.
