In a grand total of 8 days (well, 7 and a half really) the feared 30th arrives.
In recent months I have had growing trepidation at the thought of the milestone. My knees start cracking every time I get up after bending down. I like to have nanna naps on the weekends when I can (and would happily have them at work as well if I could). I start looking at kids in their teens and can't really remember what it was like to be 18, or even 21 for that matter. Their music is loud, annoying and undecipherable. Screaming children at the shops or in the city drive me to distraction. A good night out is now a lemon, lime and bitters at the pub with some friends followed by dinner and home by 10.30pm (I'm usually asleep by 11). I don't like the young girls at the check-out calling me love, dear or darling... and shock horror, one of them called me ma'am the other week.
Have I really reached Ma'am age????
And then I remembered. I hated everyone telling me I was just a babe when they heard I was in my twenties (now I'm officially an oldie). Everyone I meet always thinks I'm about 8 years younger than I really am (bonus). For the most part, men in thirties are more mature than men in their twenties (I do, however, know some men who are the exception to this). When talking to the girls at work in their twenties, I have the benefit of hard earnt wisdom and hindsight (I actually feel like I know things now).
This turning 30 lark is way better than I thought it would be!
I have thus decided that my thirties will be way better than my twenties.
It still doesn't make the "what do I want for my birthday" question any easier to answer though (would a man be totally out of the question??!)
The Six Months From Hell
13 years ago