30 Will Get You Too, My Pretty...
My mother used to preach at me constantly as I stuffed Star Crunch after Twinkie after Swiss Roll into my mouth...
"You'd better enjoy that, because you're not going to be able to eat like that when you're thirty."
Pish. What does she know? I thought to myself. Silly old woman. She also said someday I'd turn into HER.
Fast forward 15 years. Hello 30. I am now sitting here eating 12-grain toast with imitation sans-trans-fat-psuedo butter flavoring, trying to chug down yet another bottle of water while I nod off from getting up before dawn to run until my shins are screaming in agony. And yet, despite this grueling schedule, I still cannot manage to shed the final 20 pounds of lard from my ever-spreading ass since having my child in March.
It hardly seems fair. I watch the beautiful people float by and think in a dirty, evil little voice within my head, "Ha ha, lets see if you can stuff your ass in those pants in another 10 years, you little floozy." Granted, I'm sure ten years ago someone was thinking the exact same thing about me as I strolled by, my perky little ass hanging out of my signature sundresses, made all the more stunning by the platforms I loved to wear because 5'11" naturally just wasn't high enough to look down my nose at people. Hmmm. Young and blissfully stupid. If I went back, of COURSE I'd do it again. You only look that way for a little while, unless you're some freak of nature who was blessed with an abnormally hyper metabolism.
(Sigh). Of course it's jealousy. Age is a brutal thing. There's no such thing as aging gracefully, well, unless you're not a self-absorbed narcissist. Show me one woman who's happy with her aging process and I will show you a woman who is obviously taking anti-depressants.
Enjoy it while you have it, girls. 30 is a brutal, bloodthirsty, heartless, merciless monster who will crawl into your life and try to steal everything that makes life worth living. Indulgence, sleep and beauty, now distant memories, nothing more than ingredients in that birthday cake that goes straight to your thighs without passing go...
Psuedo-Butter-flavored toast is now your life-long friend.
"You'd better enjoy that, because you're not going to be able to eat like that when you're thirty."
Pish. What does she know? I thought to myself. Silly old woman. She also said someday I'd turn into HER.
Fast forward 15 years. Hello 30. I am now sitting here eating 12-grain toast with imitation sans-trans-fat-psuedo butter flavoring, trying to chug down yet another bottle of water while I nod off from getting up before dawn to run until my shins are screaming in agony. And yet, despite this grueling schedule, I still cannot manage to shed the final 20 pounds of lard from my ever-spreading ass since having my child in March.
It hardly seems fair. I watch the beautiful people float by and think in a dirty, evil little voice within my head, "Ha ha, lets see if you can stuff your ass in those pants in another 10 years, you little floozy." Granted, I'm sure ten years ago someone was thinking the exact same thing about me as I strolled by, my perky little ass hanging out of my signature sundresses, made all the more stunning by the platforms I loved to wear because 5'11" naturally just wasn't high enough to look down my nose at people. Hmmm. Young and blissfully stupid. If I went back, of COURSE I'd do it again. You only look that way for a little while, unless you're some freak of nature who was blessed with an abnormally hyper metabolism.
(Sigh). Of course it's jealousy. Age is a brutal thing. There's no such thing as aging gracefully, well, unless you're not a self-absorbed narcissist. Show me one woman who's happy with her aging process and I will show you a woman who is obviously taking anti-depressants.
Enjoy it while you have it, girls. 30 is a brutal, bloodthirsty, heartless, merciless monster who will crawl into your life and try to steal everything that makes life worth living. Indulgence, sleep and beauty, now distant memories, nothing more than ingredients in that birthday cake that goes straight to your thighs without passing go...
Psuedo-Butter-flavored toast is now your life-long friend.
posted by Kristie at 12:00 PM
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