I turned thirty this year. I’m delighted and excited to leave my twenties behind.
One thing, though.
When I was in hospital recovering after Little Elf’s birth I was chatting to one of the nurses who happens to be from where I am from.
She was asking did I know so and so, saying to me that we are around the same age.
I was thinking she looked a bit older than me, but apparently not (she would have seen my date of birth on my chart). I might have put her at least eight years older, say, and was kind of thinking ‘how old do I look?’ when she said it to me. She was probably thinking ‘How old do I look?’ when she saw my skeptical eyes look her up and down (as you do). I felt like an asshole but it’s the truth.
Until that moment, I think I still thought I looked real young like a 22 year old or something. I don’t think I’ve realised that I now look like a thirty year old Mammy.
I don’t use mirrors much, you see. I’m not in to make up, creams, magazines or fashion trends so I don’t know what I actually look like cos I don’t really care.
Today, I was chatting to a lovely woman in the playground with four gorgeous boys. Again, I would have put her about six-ish years my senior. She is 33.
’33?’ I thought to myself, ‘She is only three years older than me. She is my age!’
I have always been one of the youngest in class or on the team.
In the area I live, people are mostly thirty-something to forty-something. Most of my friends are around that age too. My husband is that age.
When I was 29, two months ago, I was in my twenties. There was a barrier there.
People would say things like, ‘Oh, I am so old’ after finding out that they’d actually been hanging around with a twenty something year old and I would think ‘Please don’t dump me cos I’m young! Young people don’t want me either.’
Since I’ve turned thirty, people don’t react that way anymore.
Regardless of that, my brain thinks I’m still 22 (it still thinks I look 22, ha!).
Today was the first day were I was around the same age as the mammy I met.
I’m part of the gang now. I’m a thirty something.
Tell me, what age does your brain think you are?