IT'S MY BIRTHDAY AND I WISH I WAS EVEN OLDER
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Yes, yes, please form an orderly line with flowers, choccies & other miscellaneous gifts. Today marks my 29th birthday. A whole 29 years since my stunning mother, bless her, went through the trauma of squeezing me into existence (sorry again, Mum, I’ve been apologising for years, but somehow, it never feels like enough).
Now, I’ve always been a birthday enthusiast, but let’s get real, the older you get, the more your birthday becomes a sad parody of itself. Once upon a time, you’d be tearing open a box with a sick as fuck Mongoose bike inside, complete with pink tassels and a basket to put your MP3 player into, now, you’re pleading with your family to pool their resources and help you pay off your tax bill. Fun, right?
I’ve always made it a point to make my friends’ birthdays special, probably because I know what it feels like to have a dogshit birthday. But if I had to choose a favourite birthday, it’s hands down my 11th birthday back in 2006. My dad, who was stationed overseas with the RAAF, surprised me by showing up on our doorstep. Middle East one day, my birthday the next. If there were a video of that moment, it would have gone viral for sure. But instead, I get to keep that little nugget of joy tucked safely in my personal memory vault.
Now, why on earth do I wish I was older? For the last few years, I’ve been hearing whispers that your 30s are the real party. Apparently, it’s that sweet spot where you’re old enough to have money (the good kind) but young enough to still feel like life is wide open. And while, yes, I do have my life somewhat together right now, I’m not quite at that boss level of independence. No real estate under my belt (trust me, I’m working on it), and I’m not married (something I’ve been envisioning since the tender age of forever).
To be blunt, I’m just tired of being in my twenties. I have this wild fantasy that when I hit 30, life will magically fall into place, and I’ll be blessed with adult wisdom and zero drama. The idea of another year of 20-something nonsense makes me want to curl up in a ball and hum lullabies to myself.
Also, can we talk about how the economy is a giant dumpster fire right now? Everything costs a limb. Just last week, I called to check my car loan balance, ready to pay it off (responsible queen, I know), and what do they hit me with? A $400 early payout fee. Are you kidding me? Apparently, being responsible costs extra these days. I’m convinced this wouldn’t happen if I were 30 instead of 29. (Ok, it probably would, but it feels better to blame age.)
Speaking of things I’m too old for, let’s talk about men. Specifically, a past fling who had the audacity to show up at the one bar everyone knows is my Wednesday night spot, acting all smug with his flavour-of-the-month. The nerve! Naturally, I did the only mature thing I could, I hopped on stage and belted out Alanis Morissette’s You Oughta Know like a woman possessed, all while locking eyes with him. That poor girl he was with? She probably thought it was some weird karaoke initiation. To her, I can only say, “get ya foot falcons on and run doll!”
Oh, and speaking of past flings, let’s dive into this little gem: my last love is currently gallivanting around Europe, the same place, at the same time, we had planned to go together. Isn’t that adorable? What a fun twist of fate. I’m sure he’s having a blast, living out the dream vacation that was once supposed to be ours. Would this happen if I were 30? Maybe. But by then, I’d like to think I’d have bigger and better things to focus on, like, I don’t know, real estate and a husband?
Anyway, savage Madison aside, I’m so ready for the next 12 months to zoom by so I can finally hold a funeral for my 20s and step into the lavish, home-owning, husband-having lifestyle I’ve been manifesting (deserving) for what feels like a century. Is that too much to ask?
In any case, I’m sure my birthday is going swimmingly right now, even though I’m writing this post a few days in advance. Look at me, being proactive!
Thanks for all the love on the blog. Writing has become my favourite little outlet. If you’d like to be notified of my blog posts, chuck your email in the little box below. It took me a long time to figure out the html code bullshit to even have that there so it’s the least you could do!
Wishing you all an exceptional week, or perhaps just an average one. Average is perfectly fine.
Song recommendation of the week: ‘Sidelines’ by South Summit
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