Dirty Thirty

Everything I need to know, I learned in my thirties.  At least, that’s how I feel so far.

As a friend of mine has only a couple of weeks left before she turns 30, she’s reminiscing on her 20s and pondering what lies ahead.  It’s making me take a look at my “dirty thirties”, even though I’m only a couple years in.  So far, I’m liking it at least as much as my 20s, if not more.  That's contrary to my previous belief that my life would completely end at 30.

Kara said she had exceeded her goals, plans and aspirations for her 20s, which I think is certainly an admirable accomplishment.  How many people can truly say that?  She then asked what to look forward to in her 30s.  My response was “Satisfied contentment. Wisdom. Clarity.”  

Back in the old days, when I was actually in my 20s, I had heard “old people” make such foolish statements like their 30s are awesome, they don’t miss the meat-market bar scene, and (gasp!) it’s nice to stay home on Friday nights sometimes.  Now that I am one of said “old people” I have to say it’s completely true.

Just like countless other people teetering on the precipice of 30, I encountered a small crisis months, then weeks, then days, then mere minutes before the big day.  I was questioning whether I had accomplished everything I wanted to, and feared the certain rapid decline that lay ahead.  Amazingly, the instant I hit the landmark, everything changed.  I realized instantly that the few things I didn't get around to by 29 could easily happen later in life.  I know that others sometimes continue feeling woeful of lost youth well into their thirtieth year.  However, I was lucky enough to break the painful shackles of age fear as soon as midnight hit that fateful night.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel cheated for staying home on a Friday night instead of mingling with dozens of friends at a happy hour.  It became OK to drink wine regularly instead of cheap beer.  Not just wine, but good wine priced at more than $3 a bottle.  Gardening, cooking and sewing became “fun” instead of “lame.”

Granted, there are definitely downsides to being older as well.  I don’t like having to watch what I eat more carefully.  Gone are the days when I can down an entire frozen pizza, a side of chips and salsa, leftover piece of chicken and half a tub of ice cream.  Although my appetite is extremely healthy even today, I have to moderate my intake to say, just the frozen pizza and a scoop of ice cream. And maybe a little bit of that leftover chicken.  Honestly though, now that I can afford to eat better (instead of working 3 jobs and only being able to buy rice, ramen and cereal) I find myself trying to regulate the junk I put in my body.  I suppose that’s another part of getting older—realizing you’re not invincible, and what you do to your body really will come back to bite you later.

Do I love all of the little laugh lines and creases, saggier skin and dark eye circles?  Heck no.  Am I a fan of being more negatively affected by lower quantities of alcohol?  *sigh* Of course not.  Do I like being called “ma’am?”  Look, you can think I’m older than I am.  You can ask me for advice on life, love and the wonders of being over 30.  On certain occasions, I’ll even allow you to call me a cougar.  But whatever you do, if you value your life, Don’t.  Ever.  Call.  Me.  Ma’am.

Anyway, also disturbing is the decrease in energy.  I’m an active person by nature, so this is the hardest for me to deal with.  My sleep schedule is shifting a bit and I often feel tired for no reason whatsoever (good grief, imagine if I had kids!).  But for every physical drawback, another emotional boon presents itself.   

I no longer feel the need to constantly surround myself with large numbers of people.   Although that’s sometimes fun, sharing good times with a few solid friends is more important.  And about all those lines, creases and sags?  Amazingly, I’m more comfortable with it now than I ever would have been at 27.   People get older, people get less attractive, and life goes on.  There’s something really satisfying about not caring that those extra three chicken wings very well could add an extra three dimples to my thighs.

To a certain extent, I’ve always lived a “who cares” kind of life.  I’m independent, and I love it.  Heaven knows I don’t stand on ceremony and usually speak my mind.  But there’s something about turning 30 that really, truly made me believe beyond my previous surface comprehension that I don’t give a crap what other people think.  I’m happy with my life and who I am, and anyone who doesn’t like it doesn’t matter.  Perhaps that’s a combination of the “satisfied contentment” and “clarity” I told Kara about.

The wisdom part has also proved priceless in the workplace.  All the young-20s hubris which accompanies nearly every person entering the workforce… well that has luckily fallen to the wayside.  I look at 22-year-old Katie and some of her thoughts, and even worse yet, some of the things she said out loud about her place in the workforce and I shudder.  Like most others at that age, at times I acted as though I was the first person to ever do that job, and nobody could present better ways of operating.  I had NO clue, and didn’t even realize it.  Not that I really have one now, but at least I can admit that.

I now look at early 20-somethings when I’m out and watch their hyperactive actions while listening to their conversations, which are windows into how their brains operate.  It’s incredible, because I can remember saying exactly the same things with similar fervor and bubbliness in those same situations.  Now I look back on some of those things and laugh at myself for possessing such conviction about things I knew nothing about, or for just plain being a spaz.

In a way, getting older seems like a fast-forward mode of evolution.  While generations of animals will evolve too slowly to see their own adaptations such as tail loss or the addition of fur, we get to see in mere years how our brains have transformed.  We can see in our 30s the characteristics of our 20s that we have shed or improved upon to become better, more whole people.  

So to my dear friend, Kara, I say suck the last gasps of life out of your 20s right up until the very moment you no longer can.  But don’t look back in sadness, longing or regret.  And don’t look ahead with fear or trepidation.   I really think you’re going to love what you find on the other side of the bridge.  In my opinion, the Dirty Thirties are what I have been waiting my whole life for, and I’m excited to see what else lies ahead.  Ask me what I think of THAT again when I’m in my 40s.