A few months ago I turned 30. I might as well have developed a third boob, as I seem to have immediately become one more specimen worth investigating -or more like invading? My Facebook page started showing me articles and ads as follow:
Meet your soulmate, find your match, men in their 30s, mature catches, handsome and established men in your area, sign up for match.com, tinder, farmers, Christians, etc.
What you must stop doing so he doesn’t run away, secrets for a long lasting relationship, hurry up and get married, in your 30s? Start your family now!, go from single to married in 10 days! (Yikes!).
30 and child free? Tic-toc, you are running out of time, who will take care of you when you get older?, you’ll change your mind when you have them (WTF?).
Lose 10 pounds in 10 days, lose 20 pounds in 5 days, the cabbage diet, the cucumber diet, the garcinia diet, exercise program for a body that looks 20.
Skin care in your 30s, wrinkles are coming, get rid of gray hairs, kill. cellulite in 2 weeks (LOL, yeah right). Stop smoking. You. Are. Thirty.
Really, I mean REALLY? Then, family members, some friends, even my primary care doctor reiterated the inevitable: once you turn 30, everything changes. And it sort of, kind of, has. In a few months I went from a cool, sexy, smart, sophisticated, accomplished young woman in her late 20s, to a walking, ticking bomb of angst. Or so I thought for about 30 seconds.
Here’s my deal: I turned thirty, I am divorced and currently single, child free by choice, hardworking, mostly independent, and surprisingly, happy. What about you?
Until next time!