So I lay in bed last night, tossing and turning, because this is what I do. I only get about 5 hours of sleep a night, despite needing to sleep so badly I'm prepared to wipe out entire urban planning centers in order to get some. I imagine it'll be like I'm Mike Brady, and I get to rip out enormous chunks of fluffy architectural fake hedges, and I will throw them off my scaled architectural model and roar, kinda' like Mothra.

But Mothra-like aspirations aside, last night the tossing and turning started to get the better of me. Angus was fast asleep, the babies were wide awake (and rehearsing the uterine version of Starlight Express), I couldn't get my hips and shoulders comfortable, what with the two bowling balls I'm packing inside of me, and my restless leg syndrome was killing me, despite having eaten all those fucking bananas.

So while all this external noise went on, I started to think about age.

You know. As you do.

I'm 33 now. I remember once 33 seemed like being older than the goddamn hills. I think I even told Kim once that I had no interest in living past 30 (although this was in my "Seriously, what's the point of life?" stage). Melissa and I were talking about ages the other day, and she even said "You're 33, right Helen? Well that's not that old, I guess."

Thanks kid. What was that talk we were having about allowances again?

33 doesn't actually feel old. 33 just is. Saying I'm 33 is no different to saying "Hi, I'm a brunette," or "Hi, I DID used to roll the Fruit Roll-Up around my finger and eat it that way, while pretending to be Morticia Adams." 33 is just one of those things.

Ages are a funny thing. One of my good friends' at work just celebrated his wife's 40th birthday, only she was so freaked out about turning 40 that they didn't really celebrate. It was more like looking out of the corner of their eyes and handing off gifts behind their backs, all while whistling and chattering "Nothing to see here! Move along!" It was a non-celebration celebration.

Time keeps on slipping, slipping into the future and all that.

I think 40 might wig me a little bit, but I don't know why. Maybe it's because I never really expected to make it that far. Not every woman can hit 40 and look like Sela Ward or Courtney Cox but I'm prepared to give it a try, all while bathing in anti-wrinkle cream. Oh sure, you may want to tell me that I'm about to have twins, looking good will be the least of my worries, but truthfully I can be vain, albeit it's vanity with foresight. One of my vanities is wanting to not look like an elephant's ankle when I'm in my 40's and 50's. I may be knackered coming up, but I can guarantee you that I will be moisturizing.

Angus has a woman 12 years younger than him but it's not actually something he's pleased about. He's not keen on people that do trophy wives. I, however, am a bit of a bitch and am happy to continue to make some of the wives of his friends as uncomfortable as they continue to make me - I've never been allowed into their "gather in the kitchen and talk about childbirth" reindeer games. I think it’s only a matter of time, I think, before someone gets drunk and throws the word “Home-wrecker!” at me. I have one ready in my reserves for that kind of shit, though. I have “Menopausal!” loaded up and ready to go. They see me as a threat to the sanctity of same-age marriage. Even though I am not said threat and it would never cross my mind to ever hit on their husbands, ever (and in fact, I find that it's the older-than-the-men wives who flirt shamelessly. One of Angus' friends is with a woman in her 50's, and she always feels the need to sit on the men's laps and flirt with them, perhaps as an attempt to still feel pretty. You are pretty, lady. So stop acting like a fornicator (hah!)), I do feel like it's a fun game to keep up appearances, if only to help reiterate that yes, I am younger, and I'm ok with that. Would you like some coleslaw with that?

When I was a kid the first decade of my life was spent reading Nancy Drew, sitting in the backseat wondering if really, would we ever actually get there, and basically trying to get that rabbit to see that truly, Trix are for kids. Now fuck off rabbit. And while youÂ’re at it, get that Pac Man chap to accept that heÂ’s my bitch.

My teens are a haze of drama and angst. Moving around, never fitting in, never really having any friends, never quite right inside of my skin. The teens, theyÂ’re a whirlwind of emotion, the majority of them not good. I do not look back on my teens as those wild days that you see in the films and I never will. IÂ’m just glad theyÂ’re over.

My twenties were a continuation of the drama of my teens. I look back at my twenties and thank Christ that they’re over, too. I never had the cool dorm college experience. I never went to a tailgating party. I didn't have a cluster of close friends, there will be no Big Chill for me. I didn’t attend a rave. I didn't try any funny cigarettes. If anything, my twenties are marked by a feeling of polyester, with me speaking into a patchy microphone asking “Hi my name is Helen, welcome to Mental Illness, can I take your order please?” I was a mess.

My thirties have been, on the whole, the true part of me being real. It has definitely sucked at times but at least I’m present and accounted for during the suckage. It’s like I’m human now, and when I look at my thirties so far I see a brightly lit grocery store. The real me treads in and sees how the mental illnesses of my twenties have trashed the place. “Jesus Christ,” my 30 year-old self mutters. “What the fuck happened in here? Irv! Clean-up on aisle 5!”

(Irv, I was never in aisle 5!)

If you’re approaching 30, don’t freak out. The thirties are a pretty great place to be. I see people in their 40’s and think – Yeah, you know, that doesn’t look too bad either. That could be ok. These people need to get over their devotion to the 80’s, perhaps, but they’re good people.

I think about the decades that have passed, and I fall asleep.

Finally.

Only I then have Kafka dreams that my visa extension is rejected and Gorby and I have to leave and go live in Mexico, where I work as a waitress in a pink stucco nightclub and we wait around in a very hot and un-air conditioned apartment for Angus to show up with some rose champagne.

I tell Angus about my bad dream this morning.

His reply – “Gorby wouldn’t go with you, he’d stay here.”

Good thing he was kidding. IÂ’d hate to have to get my twenties out and spank his bottom with it.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:28 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment
Post contains 1243 words, total size 7 kb.

1 I think 40 might wig me a little bit, but I don't know why. You know, I've never figured out why some numbers bother me and some don't. It's all totally subjective and psychological. I actually don't think 40 will bother me, but I know already that 43 will. Forty-three: Three whole years into your 40s! Will have to live to 86 to double it! No, no, no. I'm skipping 43. Actually, 45 and 47 can fuck off, too. Yet 37 didn't bother me. But I've been 38 for two months now, and still, every time I pull up a dictation at work on a 37-year-old patient, I smile and think, "Oh, he/she's my age." And then, THUD! NO! That patient is a whole year younger than I am! Just damn them! So I am not liking 38. I think I will like 39, though. I like 39 because it's evenly divisible by 13, and how many numbers can claim that? That's a rare attribute. Well, it's an every-13-numbers attribute, anyway, and 13 is a lot of numbers, so . . . . Yeah, as I more or less said: It makes no sense.

Posted by: ilyka at August 23, 2007 09:49 AM (oe73X)

2 When I turned 30 I took it pretty hard. 40 was no big deal.

Posted by: ~Easy at August 23, 2007 10:45 AM (OfRIX)

3 The 20s are crap. Mine were crap, and I was the "pretty girl" who had lots of friends and all that. More recently I've watched my 20's students go through the same things, especially the girls. Nobody enjoys the 20s. The 30s can be good, mine were worse crap than the 20s, although I did get rid of a bad relationship and meet my husband and get married in my late 30s. My kids were born just before I turned 40. The 40s? Most excellent time ever, and it has nothing to do with my social life or my family life or anything except me and how fantastic I feel about me, all the time. We're in the midst of difficult crisis here at home, I'm unemployed and we don't have very much, but life is amazing. I have never felt as good as I do in my 40s...and I can only hope that everyone feels the same or better when they get along to this time in life.

Posted by: Hilary at August 23, 2007 10:49 AM (wJlQQ)

4 I am living proof that life gets better as the decades roll on. Really. They do.

Posted by: kenju at August 23, 2007 11:05 AM (TiGru)

5 220,221, whatever it takes.

Posted by: statia at August 23, 2007 12:07 PM (lHsKN)

6 I'm a 20-year-old living in a 50-year-old body. I wouldn't go back for anything. Lived through it once and thank God I came out of it (not unscarred, however). I hope to live to a ripe OLD age (100+) but I'm not sure the body is on the same wavelength. Still and all? It is getting better all the time. Amazing. Truly.

Posted by: sue at August 23, 2007 01:39 PM (WbfZD)

7 I took 30 pretty hard. From New Years all the way to my birthday in March I kept taking an inventory of what I had done with my life and where I was going. It looked nothing like I thought it would when I was a teenager - tough lawyer like business oriented woman with no kids (hell, I didn't think I'd live past 21 for most of my teens). I still have moments of WTF when I see that someone I graduated with is an assistant DA in some county in California where her naturally bleach blonde hair is a rarity. I wouldn't change the path that my life has taken though. There are still some possibilities of detours ahead, right? My eldest sister has had the hardest time with getting older but it all goes away when her 44 year old ass gets carded. Bitch.

Posted by: Michele at August 23, 2007 02:20 PM (h1vml)

8 35 is killing me. It's staring me in the face and will come for an extended visit next Friday, and I'm not looking forward to it, not one bit. 35 can go to hell.

Posted by: Lisa at August 23, 2007 02:21 PM (L+08V)

9 You. quoted. Mr. Mom.

Posted by: Ms. Pants at August 23, 2007 03:08 PM (+p4Zf)

10 Turning 30 was the worst for me, as far as the number bothering me goes. Although there really is something to that whole "turning 40" thing. Everyone I know went through some kind of deeply significant spiritual or emotional or whatever change around then, including me. I completely changed my outlook around 40. But my 50's are by far my favorite decade, even though I'm only one year into it! *grins* I'm just feeling so comfortable with who I am at this time of life. My mom said the same thing when she hit her 50's. Yup. 50's. Awesome. You have that to look forward to!

Posted by: The other Amber at August 23, 2007 03:36 PM (zQE5D)

11 This will sound really odd, but the only milestone that bugged me a bit was when I turned 20. Yes, that's right: the big 2-0. My teen years were actually pretty good and I was a bit downcast about my 20s living up to the challenge. Now, i realize that I was a complete imbecile, but I simply chalk that up to having been 20 at the time. Now I'm in my 40s and I barely noticed when 40 passed by. I think that I waved hello at it, but I can't remember for certain. I was busy with a 3 month old at the time, so I was a bit distracted. Then again, my life has turned out pretty well, so I don't have much interest in bitching because I managed to enjoy another day of it. the first decade of my life was spent reading Nancy Drew Oh good! Someone else out there knows who Stumpy Dowd is. I'm curious, though: were you reading the original printings or the updated rewrites? I kind of though the updated versions weren't as well written.

Posted by: physics geek at August 23, 2007 04:42 PM (MT22W)

12 hahaha... you give me hope having just crossed the 30's threshold. hope that more than peter pans lie ahead and that things do get better... I should go knit you and the lemonheads something right now

Posted by: stinkerbell at August 23, 2007 04:48 PM (O3iDX)

13 I am 53 now and I have to say that the fifties have been the best decade yet, even though life gets tough some times and sad things happen. But I like who I am and I am comfortable with myself and the people around me. A lot of the doubt and stress and heartache is gone, a lot of the pain of living too. I am more sure of myself and more secure in who I am. I wouldn't give this up for anything. No, I am glad that I have reached this age and can live to tell about it. It was touch and go there for a while.

Posted by: Irene at August 23, 2007 05:50 PM (RL+iu)

14 "These people need to get over their devotion to the 80Â’s, perhaps, but theyÂ’re good people." Holy crap that was funny. I'm 42. Before I hit 40, my Mom said to me, "the 40s were my best decade. If I miss anything, it is my 40s." She has been right to date. I frickin' LOVE my 40s. I know who I am, don't give s crap what anyone thinks, I'm riding the great sex drive you get in your 40s, and I'm confident. 80s music was great. The hair and clothes? I'll pass. ;-) Heh.

Posted by: Bou at August 23, 2007 06:00 PM (fGpp7)

15 Lisa - I'm so there with you. 35 smacked me in the head 10 days ago and I still haven't recovered.

Posted by: tanis at August 23, 2007 06:23 PM (31PVm)

16 Hey, there--every now and then I must delurk--either to salute you or let you know all is well. Today? All is well on THIS side of 40. I'm 42. At the ripe old age of 40, I got married to a man 20 years my senior. He has two kids (I adore them; they adore me), and I inherited 6 (well, now) grandchildren. It's (mostly) a big lovefest, and my daughter-in-law is one of my best buds. I have no advice to how that stuff all works out, but I thought you'd like this. We had a big, very non-traditional wedding. I bought shirts--sparkly, crystal ones--for the bridal party--and one for me and one for my husband. Mine said: Grandaddy's Wife. You know what his said? LUCKY. He still wears it--especially when he's off to a big poker tourney. Just thought I'd share.

Posted by: Deborah at August 23, 2007 06:38 PM (GOFVL)

17 So far, being 30 is a good thing. I spent my 20s acting like a grown up, so it's nice to be the age I'm supposed to act. Of course, there's a 12 year old inside my head, so the physical age doesn't really matter that much to me.

Posted by: caltechgirl at August 23, 2007 08:21 PM (/vgMZ)

18 My 20's were a total mess. I think it's some sort of rule that you have to be a total asshat in your 20's. Turning 30 was mildly irritating, but 31 was (one of) my scary numbers. Still reeling a bit, and now I'm staring 32 in the face. When did I become a grown up all of a sudden?

Posted by: Sarah at August 24, 2007 10:15 AM (xB/ZV)

19 Shit turning 37 threw me over the edge...and I'm not recovering well. Girl, I think you spent the whole of the 80's in front of HBO. Cute Mr Mom quote. My fav is "You cant feed baked beans to a baby". LOL The "Skooner Tuna" Girl Now that's American!

Posted by: Heidi at August 24, 2007 06:22 PM (XjK/F)

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