Recently I was in Atlantic City celebrating a bachelorette weekend for my future cousin-in-law. It was a very exciting time, especially since I haven’t had a weekend get-a-way with a large group of girls in a while. But what I failed to realize was that I’d blatantly be in the land of the twenty-somethings the entire time. Of course I didn’t really think there was a huge difference between someone who is 25 and someone that just turned 30, but I was constantly reminded that I might be wrong.
“OMG I don’t ever want to turn 30, then I’ll be sooo old. My life will be over” the bride-to-be exclaimed on numerous occasions.
“Yeah I don’t want to wait until I am thirty to have kids, that’s sooo old” someone else stated matter-of-factly.
I suddenly felt like I was in the episode of Sex and the City, the battle of the twenty-somethings and the dirty thirties. Somehow the three of us that were “over the hill” became the ones everyone felt sorry for. How did I land in this episode of the twilight zone?
“Here, give them more liquor, they need it cause they are old and sober” the Maid of honor screamed throwing a bottle filled with a harsh, gasoline-like rum concoction.
Yes, I am single and thirty. I am crashing on my friend’s couch at the moment. But there is something freeing and lovely about being all these things at the ripe age of 30. The beauty of it is, at this age I don’t care! I don’t have anything to prove. I quickly learned that age is in the eye of the beholder.
You couldn’t pay me to go back to my twenties now. All the worrying about what to do with my future. All the stress because you are afraid of making a wrong decision in love or in your “career.” The pressure of feeling like you have to accumulate a certain number of things by the time you hit 30. Then there is the constant internal bickering with yourself about characteristics you cannot change, like your nose or the size of your chest. Nope, I have no desire to trade places with my younger counterparts. For all their energy they have insecurities to match.
At 30, I may not know much more about the answers to life, but I don’t feel the need to pretend to either. I know the only thing constant is change. I know how to adapt to life’s curveballs. I no longer feel the need to look like anybody else. I know I am not perfect, but wouldn’t change anything about myself for the world. I know what I like and don’t like, and more importantly how to express that. I don’t know where I might be in 5 years, but I know myself, and that makes all the difference.
I quietly passed the bottle of gasoline back to the maid-of -honor and sipped happily on my water bottle full of Malibu. At the end of the day, I still know how to party with the best of them. However, 30-year-olds party smarter not harder. By now I know what not to drink to avoid a painful morning after.
“Aww Navani, you just don’t care. You are so comfortable. I wish I was like that” An inebriated bride-to-be exclaimed. I wasn’t quite sure what this meant but I took it as a compliment.
“Thanks. It comes with age” I reassured her.