It’s my birthday next month, and I’m turning thirty this year. I know I’ve mentioned this before.
I imagine I’ll be speaking a lot about my birthday in the next few weeks. Be forewarned; there’s nothing I love beating so much as a dead horse. Especially a birthday horse.
So thirty. I’m approaching strange territory indeed. Don’t get me wrong – I’m looking forward to embarking on a new phase of life (and let’s be real – most of my twenties sucked), but still…thirty…
I’m already been adapting to this new mode of being. I’ve been using anti-aging cream for the past three years in preparation, and sunscreen for the past
year six months. Last week I caught myself asking, “is this skirt too short for me?” a question that would not have crossed my mind at twenty-five. I also gave away a dress that made me look like a sixteen year old about to attend her Sadie Hawkins because it looked, well, funny on me.
When did I get so old that “age appropriate clothing” became an issue? How is it that I am capable of making culturally irrelevant jokes to young adults? (This joke in particular was about Tom Selleck’s mustache). How is it that I can no longer classify myself as a “young adult” when I still don’t have a career and/or children?
Sure I’m older and purportedly wiser at this stage in life, but this is going to take some getting used to.
To aid in this process of easing into real-adulthood, I googled “women over 30″ because Google has all the answers to life. I steered past the articles trying to educate me on the severe decrease in fertility after age thirty (a 3.5% decrease per year – ouch, Mother Nature!) and pages advising hairstyles for “mature” women over thirty, with Jane Fonda as the spokeswomen (ouch, Google!).
However, when I saw this article proclaiming that “Science Proves that Women Over 30 are Better than Everybody,” I knew I had found the information I was seeking.
In this article, science tells us that women in their 30s are morally superior to any other creature on the planet. Heck, scientific proof that I’m not ready to be discarded by society based on my age/infertility? I’ll take it. Who am I to argue with science?
Okay, so according to the article, some thoughtful person in a lab coat studied moral behavioral responses in specific age groups and sexes, and discovered that while men make decisions based on immediate need, women tend to consider other people’s feelings and needs before acting. Bam! Moral superiority.
While this reinforces the reprehensible cultural stereotypes of the self-sacrificing woman and her jerk-wad male counterpart, it did make me question my own behavior in a positive way. Do I make decisions to be a “nice girl,” or do I make them based on what’s best for me? After all, I do not want to be a doormat in my thirties – I spent too much of my twenties doing that. My thirties are for being bitchin’.
Andy Rooney’s testimonial in favor of older women also made me feel warm and squishy about my approaching elder-hood. Apparently I’m supposed to get sexier as I get older. Score! I’ve never felt closer with Andy Rooney than I do at this moment…
I may even try wearing red lipstick, and I don’t even wear lipstick. Andy Rooney assures me it will look good.
So to sum up this strangely disjointed post, I’m already in a significantly better place than last year’s birthday, when I had no direction and worst of all, no you-guys to make this life worth it all.
Thank you Google, for the perspective.