This time next week I will be 30. Wow. Where did that time go? Strangely I’m not stressed or worried about turning 30. In fact I feel like I am embracing this milestone. Life is changing and so am I. So this week I have considered at all the tell tale signs that signal to me, that hitting I’m hitting the big 3 uh oh…
…You can’t handle the Alcoholic Beverage like you used to. My very first hang over from hell happened on my 17th birthday after dinner with my friends. I vaguely remember the evening in four fuzzy parts…
1. Having a fun time with my girls, eating pizza (which I didn’t know I couldn’t eat at the time!), drinking wine, celebrating and generally feeling quite grown up and civilised about the whole evening. How ironic.
2. Next, I was leaning up against a phone box whilst we waited for a taxi home. I think?
3. Then I was falling down the stairs at home before throwing up half a vineyard, diluted with margarita mush all the way up my parents newly decorated hallway. Good one Kate.
4. Afterwards, finally in the bathroom, mumbling a dribbled apology to mum, telling her that “I only had one glass of wine!”, before falling backwards into the bathtub, knocking myself out in the process. Not my finest moment I can tell you.
If the hangover alone wasn’t punishment enough (I honestly thought I was dying), I had to endure a family day out to the Millennium Dome the following morning! That place sucked even without a hang over. It was pure torture.
I can shamelessly admit that this particular experience didn’t put me off alcohol. It merely made me more determined to be able to stomach the stuff and so I spent most of my early twenties perfecting this art. Classy, I know. But in the last year I’ve noticed that I am retreating to my 17 year old- throwing -my -guts- up- kind of self. I can’t quite hack it like I used to. Nice. Worse still, I kind of don’t want to drink that much anymore…I’m quite happy staying in with a glass of good wine (any bottle less than £8 is classed as cheap plonk these days!), waking up fresh as a daisy the following morning. Oh god I’m getting old. And boring.
…Your friends need babysitters. Once upon a time if we wanted to go on a night out, the only concern we’d have is what to wear. Now, before a night out can even be arranged, friends always start with ‘let me check I can get a babysitter’. Ten years ago, we were the babysitters, now we need them.
…You considered buying shares in the Post Office. OK so the thought did cross my mind, not that we’re in a position to do this, but you know you should be starting to think seriously about your finances and possible future investments. Cue snooze fest! Pensions, Shares, Savings, Wills, Life Insurance…blah, blah, blah! They are all scary grown up topics that scream signs of hitting that next stage in your adult life. Oh Poo. Yeah I can still say that- I’m not 30 yet.
…You start a Book Club. Yes I know it’s geeky. But I love it.
…It’s harder to lose weight. You can’t sneakily eat that cake and get away with it. You can see the evidence of any treats on your butt the following morning. Brilliant. A moment on the hips and all that has never rung so true.
…You no longer want to use ‘cheap’ products. As per my feature on Liz Earle last month, you get to a stage where you no longer want to scrimp when it comes to certain beauty products. Whether it be your precious Touche Eclat highlighter, or your signature Mac Lipstick, every girl in their late twenties deserves to have that something extra special that makes her feel fabulous! Sod it, why not, you’ve earned it.
…You’ve noticed a few lines. Yes the dreaded lines. They have started to etch their way onto your face. Mostly when you smile, so unless you plan on not laughing for the rest of your life then I suggest we just breath…don’t panic…just suck it up and look after your skin. They aren’t pulling your leg when they say cleanse, tone and moisturise. Triffic.
…You start to realise who you are. By this I mean- you know what you like and what you don’t like. You know who you like and who you don’t. And you know what you want to do and what you certainly don’t want to do. And generally, you just start to feel a little bit more settled with yourself. It’s only taken 30 years, but you are stuck with you, so you might as well just get on with it and make the most of who you are…I’m not trying to knock off a Jessie J song by the way.
So next week, I make this pledge to my soon be 30 year old self:
I wont be doing shots (she says now), my friends will have to find a babysitter (sorry guys!), I’m going to treat myself all week to lovely things (and worry about investing and saving next month), I will be proud of my geeky achievements (book club rocks!), I will be eating cake without feeling guilty (I’ll just have to starve myself the next day!), I will overdose in yummy beauty products (crack open the Molton Brown shower gel!), I will smile all day long and embrace the lines (if anyone points them out, I can’t promise I wont deck them!) and I will just be me! Whoever that chick is!