I've never thought as the "30's" as old. Never. And when it comes to fashion and humor and maturity (see: Immaturity) level, I definitely think I'm far from being old.
But lately, my shit's been saying otherwise. And by my shit, I mean my body. Not my actual shit.
When I turned 30, my friend Melody said something along the lines of "Good luck. Your body totally changes like the second you turn 30. It happened to me." I thought she was bluffing her balls off and I didn't bat an eyelash at it. And here I am, 31, and now I KNOW WHAT SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT.
-At 30, my mystery stomach problems kicked into high gear leaving me in such severe pain that I ended up in the ER. A year later, it was diagnosed as endometriosis. It was such a relief to finally get a fucking answer about what my problem was... but that feeling of relief was quickly followed by the realization that I might not be able to have kids. And that pretty much sucked.
-I started getting melasma spots on my face that now make me look like I have a permanent Hitler stache. And if you don't know what melasma spots are, they're those unfortunate looking dark spots that some women get on their face that make them look like they've been playing in dirt ditches and shit. Needless to say, I don't think I'll be winning America's Next Top Model this season.
-My metabolism slowed waaaaay the fuck down and I'm getting rounder by the second. I know what you're saying- "TILTE, maybe it's because you eat all kinds of fatty shit and you're the laziest person I know." Well, to that I say "I KNOW. QUIT BEING AN ASSHOLE ALREADY." The thing that gets me about gaining weight is that I've always eaten like this and I've never had a problem staying thin. But now, it's like all the cranks and shafts and pulleys and levers inside my body have rusted over and come to a complete deep-fried halt. Even just getting dressed in the morning makes me FUCKING IRATE because it's like WWIII trying to break into a pair of freshly laundered jeans. And when I'm sitting at my desk and lean over to get something, my belly rolls are fighting their way to make it past each other. And as much as I hate to admit this, I've even worn loose fitting yoga type pants OUTSIDE of the house. -Which is fine for some people. But I'm just not one of those people. And to make matters worse, almost all of my friends have kids and they're still in just as great shape as always. And don't even get me started on the ones who've had kids and look BETTER.THAN.EVER. (I'm talking to you, Rachel C.) I'm not even pregnant and I'm already letting myself go. :::suicide:::
-My back always hurts. I've turned into one of those crazy old bats who always carries around a heating pack and downs Motrin like it's heroin-laced Skittles. I know my endometriosis plays a big part in my chronic back pains. It's tiresome and frustrating to know I get achy just after a normal day of sitting/ standing. Again, I know what you're going to say- "TILTE, if you just do some exercises and stretches it won't be so bad" to which I say "I KNOW. QUIT TELLING ME WHAT TO DO ASSHOLE." And I know you're totally right. But I have zero motivation to do something unless someone else is there telling me to do it. -And doing it with me. -And then taking me out to froyo afterwards to celebrate.
-I'm going gray. But I'm not like one of those freekazoids who actually lets their hair grow out gray. I dye those sonavabitches every few weeks. Because if I didn't, I would literally develop trichotillomania and pluck myself bald. Gray hairs are disgusting assholes and I hate them.
-The other night I had an Old Fashioned and a Peach Iced Tea Martini... and the next morning I woke up with a hangover. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABOUT?!? When I lived in London, I used to get TANKED on Vodka/ Redbulls. Sure I'd wake up with a hangover, but that would be after like 6 drinks. -You know, when it was totally warranted. Now, I have to match my cocktail/ water ratio, pig the fuck out to soak it up, and take an Ibuprofin before I go to bed just to make sure I can function the next day. Ugh. It's embarrassing, really.
-My friend Dar (who's a dentist) once told me that a person's saliva changes as they get older. Mostly starting when they turn 30. Apparently, your spit gets thicker, you get more dry-mouth and consequently, you get more build-up. When he told me that, I thought he was full of shit. But, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm pretty sure he was right. And you know how I know? Because my teeth feel fuzzy by the end of the day. And I'm blaming that shit on my old-person spit and it's lack of cleaning abilities.
-I hear motorcycles or cars with loud exhausts rev their engines as they drive down the street and I literally want to shit in my hand and throw it out my window at them.
I hope I didn't bum any of you about-to-be-30'ers out, but it's about time we face the facts here. Getting old sucks.