First off, Happy New Year readers. Thanks to all 3 of you for sticking with me :)
The marching forward of time has had me reflecting on the fact that this year I will turn 37. That's getting pretty cozy with 40.... which is pretty darn close to my mid-life point. The other day The Hubs said to me, "You know, I really should start thinking about what my mid-life crisis is going to involve." Ha ha. Put that on the To-Do List babe.
Overall I must say that my 30s have probably been my favorite over-all decade. I didn't say easiest, and I didn't say most fun. Because it's been neither. However, what I've loved about my 30s is that I've started to really believe in myself as an individual. In your 30s you seem more able to cast off your worries about outside opinions, for the most part, and become more true to yourself. It's kind of nice to live that way.
However, there are also some scary things about your 30s. Like, let's say hypothetically you go to bed one night wearing socks because your feet are cold. And to your surprise rather than being totally annoying like it was just a year ago, it feels DELICIOUS. Or, maybe, you find yourself wearing three layers to the movie theater because sometimes it's kind of cold in there. Or, perhaps you begin wearing a cardigan on a daily basis.
Maybe you look down at your chest one day and notice that the skin there looks kind of leathery, and you have a surprising abundance of freckles and moles popping up in odd places. You may even occasionally notice that after getting ready your bathroom smells like a mix of hot curling iron, lotion and perfume.... a particular scent you had previously associated only with your mother. There may even come a time when you realize you can no longer pull off the messy bun - because rather than "flirty" and "free" it comes off as "ran out of time for a shower today" and "desperate to keep my hair out of the kids boogers".
I'm just saying that those things might make a person start to feel like they are getting older.
The truly confusing thing about your 30s is that while you are constantly shocked into realizing that you are aging, you continue to deal with torturous adolescent issues. Like acne and it's partner-in-crime dandruff. Both are social suicide.... yet you aren't supposed to care any more about that kind of stuff.
Or, how about the fact that at 36 I am playing another rousing game of "What's to be Done with My Hair?" It seems to be losing some of the curl that so lovingly sprang into action with the onset of puberty. Now it's just odd. I can't cut it too short because - let's face it - fat bodies don't look good with short hair. It looks like you have a pin-size head on an orange body. I can't straighten it because.... well.... because that takes too long and ain't nobody got time for that. I can't just leave it curly because it doesn't curl up well. So I'm living in this place where I'm letting it curl but then I have to actually use a curling iron to add some curls to it in order to make it all look even.
If I loose weight, I'm cutting it off. Fair warning Hubs. In writing.
Overall I am enjoying the adventure of life as it comes. Some days my back will ache, other days I have a giggle fit like I'm 14. One morning I'll be popping a zit, and the next I'm dying my gray hairs. It's never the same from day to day. That, I think, is half the fun about growing up and into yourself. Every day comes with a new discovery. You realize that it's OK to embrace both who you were and who you are becoming.
I can't wait to see what 2015 brings.
