Photographs of me in the first half of my thirties that made me laugh
It’s my birthday this week. I’ll be 35. It’s a scary thought, not because I particularly dread getting older but simply because I cannot believe that’s my age. Surely I’m really still only seventeen… 25… 32?
Over the years, I’ve blogged about signs of ageing that I’ve observed along the way. Having spotted another only last weekend, I thought I’d collate all of them here. If nothing else, it’s helped me to realise how much my tech skills have improved; back in 2011 I still pasted entire web addresses in brackets after the text; had I not heard of hyperlinks?!
Hope you enjoy – and let me know which resonate with you! Are there any that I’ve missed? When did you first become aware of the passing years in your life?
Observed at 34 years and eleven months:
1 Folding picnic chairs seem like a perfectly reasonable item to own.
Went to a music festival and commented to my partner that we should have bought folding picnic chairs.
Observed aged 28 years and eight days:
2) You & a friend discuss whether to get the bottle of wine or just two glasses.
While on holiday, I met up with an old uni friend & we went for dinner. We both wanted white wine. And we genuinely debated whether ordering two glasses warranted purchasing the whole bottle. In the end, we did buy the bottle, but only after consideration. Clearly the days of ‘buy two glasses get the rest of the bottle free’ are no longer such an allure.
3) Fruit & nut is considered a reasonable choice of chocolate bar.
As a child, fruit & nut seemed an outrage: why ruin chocolate with other stuff? Especially vaguely ‘healthy’ things? Then lo, twenty years on, I find myself thinking ‘Umm, fruit & nut – yummy’. When & why did this happen?!
4) Going to see the Dutch tulip fields sounds like a lovely mini-break option.
My grandparents once went on a trip to see the tulips in bloom in the Netherlands. At the time, this seemed liked the most ridiculous holiday I had ever heard. The Netherlands?! On holiday?! (to be said in a Peter Kay ‘Garlic bread?’ tone). By my mid-teens, the Netherlands seemed far more alluring – well, Amsterdam came calling – but still the tulip fields remained off my holiday radar. Then the other week I found myself in all seriousness uttering the phrase: ‘I’d really like to see the Dutch tulip fields in bloom’. The implications of this are profound: I am clearly now more interested in gardening & flowers than sex & drugs.
5) You know your own underwear limitations.
Some time ago, my friend & I vowed that we would give up trying to haul our breasts into strapless bras. We were in ‘French Connection’ in Birmingham’s Bull Ring at the time. The ‘hoik wriggle’ move every few minutes, we decided, was a) a pain & b) simply not alluring. So sufficient have I been in my resolve to ban strapless bras, my brain now simply edits out any items requiring anything other than a standard bra before I even enter the changing room. The saddest part of all this is that I don’t even miss such skimpy tops, halterneck & boob tube-esque numbers.
6) Social arrangements regularly involve breakfast & always require a diary.
I’m not exactly sure when exactly this moment occurred, but at some point in the last couple of years, breakfast has suddenly become a reasonable time of day to meet up with people. Hangovers &/or new boyfriends no longer rule any time before 12pm on a Saturday or Sunday out of the equation for when to get together.
Around the same time as ‘breakfast = feasible time for socialising’ occurred, the diary phenomena also emerged. Even with closest friends, diaries are required to figure out when the next meeting can be arranged. If you haven’t got your diary with you then you dare not make any definite plans. Want to meet up on a weekday evening? A slot about three weeks later can usually be found. Want to meet up on a weekend? This requires around three months of planning – & even then it’s likely to be for breakfast.
7) The only current hits you know are familiar thanks to secondary activities.
Despite vowing to never be like our parents & become totally unfamiliar with the music charts, it seems that after a certain point, we only know current songs because we have heard them through some secondary means. Ie, we stop saying ‘Oh yes, I heard it on MTV/Top of the Pops/the Chart Show’ & start saying ‘Oh, I think I’ve heard this in the gym/at my exercise class/in a shop/in the dentist’s chair’.
8) ‘Last time around’ includes clothing you can remember wearing.
This moment was truly frightening. Topshop, Saturday afternoon: I spy some oversize shirts. First thought: ‘Ooo, they’re lovely. I could wear them with leggings’. Second thought: ‘Oh ****, I wore them with leggings circa 1990’. Third thought: ‘Oh **** & double ****, no-one else within a five-metre radius of me was even born in 1990’.
On the bright side, I dug out my 1990 oversize shirt (complete with ruffle, just like some of the Topshop new season collection). I have changed the buttons & it’s ready to wear.
Advantage *1 of ageing: you no longer have to always buy vintage, you can just dig it out of the back of your own wardrobe.
Observed aged 29 years and two months, on the eve of attending the first thirtieth birthday party for someone in my school year:
9) You start to forget events in your own life.
This isn’t just about forgetting general stuff, or specific dates, but forgetting things that you have either done or experienced. See post below for an example of it. I don’t know whether it’s because as you get older, more stuff has happened in your life or whether it’s because there’s a greater time/distance between some of those events and the present. Or maybe it’s just increased forgetfulness.
10) You no longer think about money in Tens and Units.
When you’re younger, spending projections are along the lines of ‘£5 for x, £20 for y’, with maybe the occasional large expense such as a car thrown in. Somewhere along the line, your budgetary parameters shift and everything becomes Hundreds and Thousands (at this point I suspect that describing sums in this way – units, tens, hundreds and thousands – does as much to mark my age as carbon dating does for archaeological remains, clearly linking me to a specific phase in the National Curriculum for maths).
11) You bump into people you know in supermarkets, not nightclubs.
[As had happened to me the previous Thursday]
12) More than one person offers to drive on a night out.
This happened today in relation to Saturday’s thirtieth party; I text friend saying ‘I’ll drive if you like’, she replies saying ‘I don’t mind driving’. Gone are the days when said friend used to smear kebab across my dad’s ‘taxi’ at 2pm on a Friday and Saturday night.
14) You’re no longer shocked when a friend says they’re having a baby.
When babies first start appearing among contemporaries, my initial reaction was shock (‘OMG, they’re pregnant/going to be a dad! How can this be? What do their parents think? How will they cope?) followed by a dose of reality (‘We are in our twenties/they are married/own a house with their partner/this is a perfectly acceptable age to be having a child’). I am now sufficiently old that the shock element has subsided. News of pregnancy is now met with an instant reaction of ‘Ah, how lovely – great news!’. Even babies that are a bit of a surprise to all involved are not the shock that they once were. But that is no bad thing. One of the most enjoyable nights I’ve had recently was with some old friends, playing with one of them’s new baby and discussing the imminent arrival of another’s. She joined the world yesterday afternoon and I am very excited about meeting her, maybe even at this Saturday’s thirtieth. [Which friend was this, I’m now wondering].
Observed aged 29 years and three months, while out celebrating a school friend’s engagement:
15. It becomes increasing likely that more than one person in the group won’t be drinking because they’re breast feeding.
16. You are all amazed at how busy pubs get.
17. Booty calls become “How are the kids?” calls.
18. You’re really glad you wore flat shoes.
19. You no longer even humour the strange blokes that magically appear among you when you’re dancing.
20. You think they’ve made a mistake and played the same song twice in quick succession until you realise that you’re so out of touch with current music that you just think all the songs sound same.
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