Turning thirty

My birthday's coming up, and l had this whole thing l was going to write out on my thoughts about turning thirty...but they're sort of pretty much summed up in this piece l wrote for my mom's 60th commemoration book about growing older, so here you go.
When people ask my age, l say twenty nine, and then jokingly add that l plan on staying twenty nine for as long as l can get away with it. It’s a telling statement for two reasons; one, l really don’t wanna grow up (I’m a Toys-R-Us kid…), and secondly, I think I’m afraid of “losing” myself. It’s the fear of turning thirty; I know this, since I’ve never cared much about my age, and all of a sudden, the thought of pretending I’m younger is REALLY attractive. I think there’s a stigma surrounding the thirties and forties, one that implies that we get less attractive, less enjoyable or interesting, have less fun, have less of….everything.

People say forty’s over the hill, but everyone hints that it’s really thirty. I find myself getting caught up in this hype, and frankly, it pisses me off. I remember telling Mom several years back that I believed that physically, people become more beautiful as they age; the wisdom and character they’ve gained becomes etched in their faces, and that, in turn, adds character to their visage. She found this hilarious, if I remember correctly, and I think her response was along the lines of “You may feel differently in a decade.” I understand this now, not because I look older than my twenty nine years, but because, on some level, I’ve fallen for the hype that we also get less *attractive* as we age.

But here’s the thing. The reason it pisses me off is because I find my mother to be a direct contradiction to the beliefs that we become less of ANYTHING as we grow older. And I’m a pretty reliable source on this, being her daughter and all.
Over the years, I’ve seen my mother open up in ways I don’t think she was able to during my younger years and in an unhappy marriage. I think staying in it for my sake forced her to keep a part of herself shut down, and having an angry and rebellious child on her hands didn’t help either. It was only after I graduated and she met Harry that things seemed to really open up for her, though I noticed a huge change in her demeanor after separating from Dad. As time has gone on, she’s ‘settled’ into herself in a way that I can only understand through a few ‘settling’ experiences of my own, but it’s a beautiful thing to watch. And every time we talk, I realize just how far I have to go…and just how far I’ve come. I spend a lot of time thinking about Mom and the advice and wisdom she’s passed down over the years, and wishing dearly that I weren’t still so screwed up in the head. This is funny, because I also know full well that much of her wisdom comes from experiences I have yet to face – so why do I fear turning thirty? Because I have a deep love/hate relationship with instant gratification. I want to be there NOW, know what she knows, have the love she has, have the *center* she does.

As my mother’s gotten older, she’s also gotten more beautiful. I found a photo of her recently back when she was twenty two, and because I don’t remember her looking like that, I found her absolutely STUNNING. As I considered how I see her now, and how she looked then, I appreciate both…but lack of wrinkles generally equal lack of wisdom (plastic surgery don’t count), and while I still think my mother’s beautiful, it’s her aura, the confidence she proudly but humbly wears around her, that truly makes her stunning. Back then, she was stunning physically, yes. Now, what makes her so striking is her beauty *combined* with her ESSENCE. It takes great skill to know your worth without letting it color who you ARE. She’s a hard act to follow, but I’m gonna do my best. In doing so, I’ll have to stick to my own “Beauty is increased through age” philosophy – so in the future, when people ask me my age, I think I’m gonna say “Months away from thirty, baby. Only a few months away from thirty.” Thirty one can’t come fast enough.