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A letter on turning 30…

It’s starting to seem like I’m getting worse and worse at shaving. I usually never miss a spot. Or, wait, did I always have to shave in this spot? Is there hair growing in new spots? Interesting. New spots to shave, got it. I guess now shaving takes a bit longer. 


Was that wrinkle between my eyes always there? Hm. Interesting. I don’t think that was there before. Should I consider Botox? At what point is the wrinkle noticeable enough that it needs Botox? At what age do people usually start getting Botox? Hm. I’ll Google that later in bed tonight. 


Does my hair feel thinner than usual? Hm, interesting. I’ll search for a hair growth serum later. 


Do these jeans feel tighter? I still love the way I look, but why do my hips seem wider? How do I make all of these curves fit into jeans? Do I need to buy new jeans? Do I need to eat less? What kind of exercises should I be doing? And why do I notice it in the mornings now if I eat a piece of chocolate cake? Can I still eat chocolate cake whenever I want? Of course I can, I am an adult now, I can do whatever I want. Hell, I can eat chocolate cake for breakfast. I’m gonna eat chocolate cake for breakfast tomorrow. 


Is a glass of wine every night too much? Is that normal? How often do “normal” adults drink a glass of wine?


I feel like there’s a lot going on here that no one taught me about or prepped me for. And I didn’t notice it in one big moment like BAM- I’M A WOMAN. It was little by little, hair by hair, wrinkle by wrinkle, curve by curve. It creeped up on me slowly. And then I turned 30. And now I’m here, and I’m beautiful and strong and wonderful and amazing. But there are a whole lot of new things here to figure out. Does this happen every decade? Is there ever a point where you feel like you’ve got it figured out? Or does it just keep constantly changing?


I wish there were a guidebook on how to age into a woman. Instead, I’ll take note from the women who came before me, aging beautifully, gracefully, messily, poised, and perfectly. The women I look up to and admire- the ones who made it look like they had it all figured out, even in the times when they really didn’t. Thank god that women like them came before me. 


Does this mean that I’m the guidebook for the women coming up after me? Am I doing ok? 


Sincerely,

A newly 30-year-old

 
 
 

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