"Why God, why?! We had a deal! Let the others grow old, not me!" Joey Tribbiani in, 'The One Where They All Turn Thirty'.
It's just a number. 30. It's the one before 31 and the one after 29. But there is something about the looming of this particular number on the very near horizon, which is causing me to take a panoramic look at my life both retrospecively and speculatively, with mild horror. I call it PTT.
Things that have changed:
* I can no longer eat what I want and do no excercise without gaining weight.
* Eating healthily and doing excercise doesn't seem to make a lot of difference.
* If I stay up past midnight for one night, that's the whole week wrecked.
* I'm pretty sure I need glasses.
* I listen to Radio 4.
* When I listen to Radio 1, I haven't heard of any of the bands, and all the songs sound the same.
* Pop stars are all younger than me.
* I have recently had acutal, non-ironic conversations about the following: mortgages, stain removal and pensions.
* Recently, with a bit of spare cash, I treated myself to 'something for the kitchen'.
* I iron T-shirts. In fact I only bought an iron this year. In fact my mum bought it for me because she was furious to discover I had gone that long in my life without having to endure the chore that she had been chained to for years.
* My body is suddenly telling me urgently that I must procreate by any means necessary, even though prior to this, the idea has been of virtually no interest at all.
* Things that I have been fairly relaxed about having not achieved so far, suddenly seem so significant that I feel like a fundamental failure without them. For example:
* I am not married.
* I have no babies.
* I am not financially solvent.
* I am not above the first rung of a 'career'.
* I still don't know how to apply makeup.
* I still ring my mummy when I feel sad (whenever I think about any of the above).
* I am still a bit scared of thunderstorms.
* I still go home for Christmas.
* I still sleep in a single bed.
* I still get spots.
* I still have an extremely peurile sense of humour. For example, just writing the following words is my idea of sophisticated wit: willy, bum, fanny, fart, trump, tit, flange.
* I am still laughing about the above.
Help me. I never thought Thirty would happen to me.
1 comment:
ah OddBabble...
I miss you...and I spent the best part of 2 days with you only about 24 hours ago. sigh.
Nottingham and Peckham are so far apart
By becci brown, at Wed Jul 30, 05:23:00 PM 2008
Well one thing I know for sure, you are a fabulous writer. The good thing is that you can express yourself and that's worth a lot.
So Happy Happy Birthday on Monday, August 11. May you have a wonderful day and a terrific year.
You will always be my tender little flower.
rg
P.S. I'm much older than you are and I always called my Mom when I was sad. And today I want her here so badly and I can't have her because she is gone. So enjoy the fact that your mother is still here and you are able to call her. I think it's great that you have that relationship with her.
By Rosalie, at Fri Aug 08, 06:29:00 AM 2008
Steven Bright at 12:25pm July 28
A few comments, OddBabble.
I was sitting here with my hand over my mouth - in recognition - as I read this entry; especially around the issues of things such as gaining weight.
Being slim was always part of my make-up, since I was a child. I was always the skinny kid. I was always the skinny teenager. I was the one at parties, in my 20s, who could eat whatever he wanted and never got fat. So why, now, am I getting this little pot belly?
Most of the time, it is those around me who talk about mortgages and the like, since I have little experience or interest. But I do often stop, in horror, and worry that I don't have [and should have] a mortgage, a pension, a relationship, children to eventually look after me, a career, etc. And where it was never a concern before because my 'youth' and 'carefree nature' was enough to hang onto, that is fading fast as I step nearer to 40 [that is your next hurdle to overcome after 30]. All around me, I notice that my buddies from the carefree days are building fortresses for themselves out of babies, investments, work developments and marriages. And I am still sitting here, reading my books in the bedroom of my parent's home, thinking 'That little one from McFly is quite cute, isn't he?'.
Scared? Totally and utterly.
My other comment, OddBabble, is that I really enjoy your writing. You have a beautiful way of handling words and a very endearing sense of humour. I have very much enjoyed reading some of the notes you have made here. You have a very perceptive eye for the world around you. You may not have a mortgage or be financially solvent just yet, but an ability to tune into the world and translate what you see to others so well is a wealth far greater.
Renata Barac Rossi at 3:52pm July 30
I enjoy reading your words, whatever you write about OddBabble! You have such a talent for writing. I hope one day you will publish a book, I'll be the first one to get it.
Hope you are well. Take care. Renata
Michelle Cook at 2:21pm August 30
Ahh bless. It get's worse you know. I had my fist white hair at 30. Sticking clear out of the top of my head Lol. Well there are a few more now in areas I don't care to mention.............. I think it reaches a climax, where you sort of get bored of worrying. That's the point when you just give up and retire to an armchair to watch Eastenders. Hey there's hope. They say life begins at 40 ;)
Nah just kidding. 30 is actually great. It's the age that you can no longer deny that you are an adult and you get to look in the mirror and say, hey 30, I don't look a day over 20. It's still a novelty until you're 31.
I really recognise everything that you said though Lol. Brought back some memories :). But, I guarantee you 30 is good fun (Provided you don't get a cat or start to buy aromatherapy candles and pot pourri). Like looking at the world through different eyes.
I loved reading this. Ok back to me armchair to watch Bridget Jones.
C ya soon OddBabble xx
Post a Comment