During my 20s, I was told by a colleague of mine that you would know you’ve reached 30 when you bought your first kazebo and got excited about it. Anything really, that’s homely that got your juices flowing apparantly, would suffice as indicator enough. Well I’m 33 years old today, no kazebo yet, and for my birthday this year I got to shit into a container for the second time in my life, both occasions being for allergies that reared its ugly head after the big 3 zero.
I really do have quite a bit to say to that colleague should I ever see them againš¤ dirty thirties, well boy oh boy, they have no idea how dirty shit can get. Literally, I think as I wash my hands and continue typing this out in my head. Especially if you only start having those two legged creatures a little later in life, like a normal person should. Stay young while you can folks, stop counting, get your mind swept or become illiterate by any means necessary! If you can’t count the fcuks then you shouldn’t give a fcuk right? However they say the phrase, I’m sure I’m butchering it.
I was also told 30s is where you’ve found your crowd and you’re kind of living your best life so that by 40s you really just don’t care, they take you as you are or they leave you. And you have a choice to smile politely at them as they walk by or flip them the bird. You also have a choice to pretend to like them and their opinions in case you’re not entirely “there yet” or haven’t exactly found your tribe. No hurry we all get to the destination eventually or for some special cases the next after life.
Then, before you know it, collagen and elastin are standing on your nightstand, alongside bulky sister petroleum jelly (and not for the fun kind of use, oh no!) More for preventative measures like thigh chaffing. Preventative is what I call the spandex fat pants that have now found a home for themselves in one of my drawers. The standard colours black, beige and navy with lace trim, you all know the ones I am talking about ladies. Just for the days where you are feeling a little sassy and in need of a nip and tuck into your skirt suit.
You also loose 5min a day just trying to get your bathroom vanity closed, which starts spilling at the brim because your 3 step facial regime has now become a 12 step nightmare. I will elaborate that in your 30s you also get bombarded with either wrinkles or some saggy chin-neckline horror story that just hits you out of nowhere. Like all of a sudden people start commenting on your grey fly aways, even though you tell them Julia! “It’s highlights!” Mental note, never having tea with her again. No good story ever started with we had tea my friend always reminds me. That’s just proof of the 20s lingering….. (eye roll)
I mean you can blame bad genes sure, too much sun, alcohol, late nights, sleeping with your makeup on and cigarettes even. Blame all the shit that makes life worth navigating through your 20s, while it rips you a new one as you enter the Era of self care. Cause fcuk,you’re aging all of a sudden at the speed of a freight train according to the 20 year old that just called you aunty. THAT literally happened overnight. Oh, and have you heard the latest from Julia? Panama hats with bikinis are out for more broad brimmed partners and exotic sarongs. Well unless it’s skinny dipping Julia where everything goes, literally goes, as in the way you entered this world and shall leave it, goes! Then I say to heck with those societal norms! Go where you can become intoxicated with your natural beauty at any age again. There where you can find and appreciate yourself as you are here in the present.
And so I smile and wave as I welcome the next Era of my life’s show and all to the stage. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from my 20s where I could bounce back from shit after one wild night out, is that in my 30s, I regurgitate and relive the experience atleast twice before promising myself and God never to repeat the mistake of thinking I’m that resilient again. Clearly what you put in your body from your 30s onwards: food, emotions and energy wise is super important folks and if you haven’t been your authentic self, well, 30s is going to strip you bare in a reveal all before she dresses you up like a dirty trollop for the cabaret show.
Cheers I say to myself as I screw the lid of the specimen shut. Cheers to you and living an authentic life to the fullest. Life starts this year at 33, that’s a story for another day, but whose counting anyways?
Juanita Cooper 