I got really annoyed this week at a
feminist commentator asking people to stop referencing the fact she heading towards
her 30th. She’s younger than me (and Gaga with whom I share a birthday week)
and it was the first time someone moaning about turning 30 annoyed me. Cos, ok,
each new decade is a right of passage. BUT one: you’re in the public eye people
are going to know your age. And two: own it, and don’t say with one breath 'will
people stop mentioning I’m 30 it’s not a big deal' and with the next say, 'actually
turning 30 is a feminist issue as being 30 is so different for women than for
men'. GAH.
I think there’s something stupid about
moaning about the inevitability of getting older, boo fucking hoo. I mean yes things get scarier – will I have kids – will I meet someone who is
sexually and intellectually fulfilling – will work be ok – why does everything I read in the news break my heart – will everyone
realize I’m a fraud – will I get a dog – is it necessary for my periods to
reach levels of world ending pain – am I ever going to stop pretending I may one
day be a Blue Peter presenter? But hey there are questions all the time about
everything. They only get more urgent if we allow them too. There’s a solution
to every problem and sometimes it’s the solution we least expect.
And all this with a pinch of the LOL salt –
as I’m still not very old at all. But things are changing… some are magic, some
are a bag of balls. My cheekbones have appeared, they are now right there on my
face not hidden beneath two inches of puppy fat – bones generally seem to be
appearing, collarbones, knee bones, hand bones, shin bones. BONES. I am strong.
I feel strong and aware of my body, I’m ‘devil may care on my bike’ as
a boy told me last week. But I can balance on high things, and do that stand up from
being on my toes dirty dance thing, and do a whole gym class without feeling
dizzy. I feel like if I wanted to, I could try a cartwheel. (I won't, I'll damage myself. BUT I COULD)
I can recall songs
in pub quiz rounds, this is a whole new skill – I have a huge encyclopedia of
brain pop but have never been good at recalling it. I am now.
Sometimes I look in the mirror and feel
like I’d like to wear a balaclava until the day I die. But more often than not
I’m kinda cool with what I see. I joke ‘I only need to lose weight for the
people that look at me’ and I mean it, as far as I’m concerned, what I got ain't bad. It does walking and talking and my hair is fucking cool.
Older men and younger men flirt with me.
LOLZ. Silver foxes and gorgeous twenty year olds with loads of hair. Some men
still find me terrifying; these men now make me laugh. Some women find me
terrifying; and I want to be friends with them so I try, and don’t worry when I
don’t succeed.
Look. Things can be rubbish, really
rubbish, but getting annoyed with people for merely recognising AGE as a thing is
plain silly. I’m NEARLY 30 and I'm saying ain’t nobody got time for that.
