Thursday, June 11, 2009
The end, the beginning.
Big sigh. Big huge sigh.
I turn 30 on Sunday. And I've got leftovers for abs.
I guess looking older means you just look more tired. Because that's what I see in the mirror as time passes, that I just look worn out. But it's not only looks. It's what it feels like to be 30. Like I should start drinking herbal tea and buy a cat. And I should walk slower and start hunching. And I should get my nails done.
Thirty. It falls off the tongue quickly and leaves a bit of an after taste. It means I drive a mini van and not even as a joke.
I have a couple talents. Like singing. I've always been able to sing. But when I hear someone that's really really good at it, I feel really bad at it. And I think, if I don't have singing, what do I have? It was always the thing I could fall back on if everything failed. As in, I don't have good table manners or skinny fingers, but at least I can sing, right? And when you can't fall back on it, it's just depressing.
That's how I feel about 30. If I was going crazy out of my mind with the kids, if I didn't have a career of any sort, if I hadn't finished college, if I didn't have an organized house, if I didn't prepare my food storage, if I didn't write in the kid's journals, it was OKAY. It was okay because I was still in my 20's.
But now. Sigh.
There are no excuses.