Where's My Spoiler Alert?

Did you ever read a book or see a movie and wish that someone would have told you the “big surprise” about it, or is that just me? I don’t like to be surprised. It's something that I've dealt with since I was a small child, and I just don't like it. I don't like things jumping out at me, I don't like not knowing the end of something, or whats' going to happen. I just don't like it. It takes almost every fiber of my being not to read the end of books when I get a new one. I’m guilty of googling spoilers to movies (sometimes in the theaters) just so I’m not surprised. I don’t like surprises, okay?

Some things can’t be googled, though. Some things you have to find out for yourself, or even wish that someone would clue you in. For example: why doesn’t anyone warn you about what happens when you turn thirty? It is really like that adorable Jennifer Garner movie 13 Going on 30?

Spoiler alert: IT’S NOT.

Here’s why:

Things start to hurt. By “things” I mean body parts. And by “body parts” I mean Hey, did my knees always make that noise when I got out of bed? Guess what? No, no they didn’t. I’m pretty sure that thirty is the age in which your body has had enough and starts to deteriorate. Back aches, muscle pains, head aches, heartburn. I mean, honestly. You’ve gone thirty years in the same body and it’s (hopefully) got all of its originally parts and now it starts to fall apart? How lame.

You literally lose your mind. When I turned thirty I started a blog, started running, and got a tattoo. Maybe that’s not as crazy as quitting your job and moving to some far off place to start a brand new life, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it! To me, thirty is a weird age. You’re not old enough to start worrying about the big stuff and you’re not young enough to get all wild and crazy without looking like a fool. So, what happens? You can’t decide what you want to do and lose your damn mind.

Hangovers. Look. I partied a lot in my younger days. I could hang with the best of them. There were nights when I was pretty sure my liver would have physically removed itself from my body to be free of me (too much?), but now that I’m old? Psssh. First of all, I’m too tired to drink, let alone “party”. And, second of all, when I do “party” it takes days, days to recover. (Please note that when I say “party” I mean have two beers and go to bed after 10PM.)  I used to just be able to grab a McDonald’s breakfast sandwich and chug a Dr. Pepper and all would be just fine. These days there are things that even bacon can’t cure and that scares me.

I’m very tired. Maybe it’s just because I work a lot. Or maybe it’s the fact that turning thirty means you need more sleep than a person that’s…twenty-nine. I swear I didn’t need this much sleep when I was just a wee twenty-nine year old. (Please note: I also do not have children and, yes, I’m complaining about sleep. It’s my blog and I do what I want to.)

Everything you liked you now hate. I’ve basically cleaned out my closet a million times since I’ve turned thirty. I clean out my iTunes, my DVD collection, my classroom, my books (precioussssss). I’m older. More sophisticated. Less Old Navy t-shirts, more LOFT t-shirts! Less boybands, more bands with men who play instruments (BANJOS)! Less books about magical crap…no, I still like that. ;)

Just kidding, I still like most of this stuff. I always regret a clean out. Earlier this week I attempted to clean out my “ironic t-shirt collection”. I ended up getting rid of four shirts. Then I went back into the donation bag and took two of them back. Look, the majority of my shirts are either Harry Potter or Captain America themed and they are awesome. So, not all of your tastes change.

Save the drama for your llama. I’m thirty and I’m over it.

You are, very simply, more awesome. Thirty, flirty, and thriving, right? That’s what people kept telling when I was going through my turning thirty depression. But, really, thirty is pretty cool. You’re thirty years wiser. Thirty years more sturdy. Thirty years of experience for a colleague or friend or kid (if you’ve procreated by the time you hit thirty). Thirty years more awesome.

It’s taken me a while to come to grips with how awesome thirty is, but I kind of like it. Of course, in a few short months I’ll be saying goodbye to thirty. I’ll no longer just be thirty. I’ll be in my thirties.

I probably will lose my mind then. 

PS - I turned thirty a while ago. Another thing? THIRTY MAKES YOU FORGET THINGS.