Sunday, January 8, 2012

A Brief Comparison of Decades

     Today is my 30th birthday. I had no "Dirty 30" birthday party to kick off this milestone; instead, I spent a quiet day watching movies on the couch with two sick toddlers and one 100lb dog who was pretending to be a sick toddler- all of whom wanted to sit on my lap, have their ginger ale/Gatorade cocktails refilled, and their backs rubbed (ass scratched in Saku's case.) While I might normally protest spending my birthday wiping noses and administering Pepto Bismal- I don't actually mind today. I'm not missing out: I am 40 weeks preggo and barely over the flu myself- how much partying would I be up for, really? So an all day jammie party was in order- I even drank my ginger ale out of a wine glass to feel more festive.

     I've given some thought as to what it means to be 30 years old. I can vividly remember my oldest brother turning 30 and thinking to myself, "that's sad, he's like, almost half dead now!"
It's also sad that I was (a) that stupid  (b) that bad at math  (c) so unappreciative to what the third decade of life will bring. I now feel like the twenties were the warm up for what the rest of my life will be. Today, in between movies, I made a mental list comparing how my 20s were and how I expect my 30s to be.

                                                         My 20s Vs. My 30s

20s: I logged in some major time sleeping in university and beyond: between classes, before and after the bars, on weekends, in the sun, in the shade. Wherever, whenever.
30s: I'll sleep when I'm dead. Besides, we'll have three little kids soon; the bulk of our sleep will be retained during Caillou episodes and between 9pm-3am. Problem solved.

20s: Spent a great deal of time getting ready to go to the bar, pre-drinking at Someone's house before hand, spending all night dancing, smoking, and drinking, paying for my last call drink with the last remnants of pocket change. Eventually getting kicked out by the bouncer/owner/bartender/coat check girl/slightly less drunk drinking patron.
30s: Avoiding bars altogether. I'd like dinner parties, wine and cheese samplings, and backyard BBQs please. I'll get my "bar" fix from wing nights out with Nick and friends, community events, and the odd girls' night out.

20s: I was able to eat anything and everything without weight gain or GI problems. Pizza and poutine at 3am? Yes please! McDonald's breakfast at 5am before going to bed? Great idea! Chips and Pepsi while watching TV? Well obviously! Cheesecake covered, Oreo stuffed chocolate chip cookies? I shouldn't...I'll only have 17 please...
30s: Anything other than water after 7 pm gives me heartburn now. So I can snack on Rolaids basically...crunch, crunch, crunch.

20s: Worried needlessly about my insecurities and the "imperfections" of my body- when in fact, this was when my body was at its most rockin'. I wish I could go back in time and kick myself in my tight ass. And walk around with less clothes on.
30s: Wearing my extra curves with confidence. Liking my stretch marks- they are a badge of honour. Finally being comfortable in my own skin. Maybe getting a boob job. Just saying...the girls could use a little lift...

20s: The first half of the decade is a bit of a blur. I was pretty drunk and stoned. You could insert any "Stupid Rachel" story here and I'd have to believe it.
30s: I get buzzed off an extra strength Tylenol. If I pair it with a Robax back pill- whoa! That will mess. My. Shit. Up. This decade, I will try to put better things into my body.

20s: Spent trolling for The Perfect Man. The first five years were spent settling for Mr. Not-a-Complete-Asshole, hook ups with various forms of Sir I-Look-Really-Hot-in-the-Dark, and one unfortunate relationship with Captain I'm-Way-Too-Attached-to-my-Mom.
30s: I'm married now. I will never marry again, nor is divorce an option. So it's either I outsmart CSI when I off my husband, or I put everything into this relationship to make it not only work, but to make it amazing and worthwhile.

20s: Sex was good. And frequent.
30s: Sex will be great. And frequent.

20s: I lived off Pepsi. Literally.
30s: I will end my affair with Pepsi. After one last wild fling. I swear it'll be the last time...and I'll be discreet.

20s: I was not always super concerned with the state of relationships with with family members. I have a big family, so my reasoning was that "meh, if one is pissed at me, I'll hang out with one of the other dozen members. No biggie."
30s: I will make my family a priority. I realize that our time together is finite and I won't have everyone around me forever- except my Nana. She will outlive us all; she's 'effing indestructable.

20s: Worried about what others thought of me; what others said about me; got caught up in the allure and scandal of gossip; hated not being saught out as a person "in the know."
30s: I have no time or intrest for that shit. Does that mean I really am old? No, I think it means I am finally smarter.

No comments:

Post a Comment