It may be too early to write this post. I’m not even six months into 30, but I’m noticing things about myself and it’s hilarious.
I’ve been declaring I’m officially old. My tastes and tolerance for certain things have been gradually changing, and this was starting to happen in my latter 20s.
I know it’s stupid.
Instead I should be saying, “I’m officially not thinking like a 20-something.”
Here are some differences I’ve been noticing.
20-something: I had McDonald’s for breakfast, lunch and dinner and haven’t gained a pound.
30-something: I just bought the dollar menu fries and gained 3 pounds.
20-something: I’m going to the mall to hang out.
30-something: I’m going to the mall to get my eyebrows threaded, fix a clasp on my bracelet, find a dress for another wedding I’m attending, comfortable, cute flat shoes for work, new book, gift certificate for so and so, I’m not trying to be in here all day…
20-something: Will there be guys there?
30-something: Will there be single, legally single, employed men with no criminal record (misdemeanors prior to the age of 22 may be acceptable on a case-by-case basis) and all of their teeth?
20-something: Is he cute?
30-something: Does he have kids? A job? Is he married? No for real, he’s not married right?
20-something: Aren’t these five-inch heels sexy?
30-something: Five inch heels are for getting out of the car at valet and sitting in the restaurant only. I’m going to need my Dr. Scholl’s inserts tonight.
20-something: This dress is so tight, I just won’t wear panties. Look at my butt, it’s fine, right?
30-something: This is going to be a double spanx night. Please, don’t look at my butt…
20-something: I want to look like that girl from that music video!
30-something: I do not want to look like that girl from that music video! I want to look like that fashion editor from that magazine.
20-something: I know he’s out with his boys, but I’m going to keep texting. I won’t be able to sleep until he tells me he’s home. It doesn’t matter when, I’ll stay up. He may want me to come over.
30-something: He’s out with his boys. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. This is perfect, I wasn’t going to shave until tomorrow anyway. He better not call or knock on my door drunk later on tonight.
20-something: Yes, I’ll have a Long Island Iced tea. Keep it coming!
30-something: Vino please. Forget the glass, the bottle makes much more sense.
20-something: It’s 1 a.m. on a Tuesday, we’re still up! We’ll sleep when we’re dead!
20-something: God, I’m fat. I just won’t eat today.
30-something: God, I’m fat. I had egg whites for breakfast, a salad for lunch, but damn it I’m going to have a decent dinner tonight!
20-something: It’s Friday night, we are going out! What else would we do?
30-something: It’s Friday night, take out and catching up on Hulu or DVR! Yessssss! Self mani-pedi and some vino!!! I’m too tired to go out. I’m tired of the clubs and bars. If it’s not someone’s birthday, count me out. I’m so over it, where’s my sweatpants?
20-something: I wouldn’t be caught dead going to a movie or restaurant alone.
30-something: I’m tired of waiting for you/yall to make a decision. I want to see this movie and/or try this restaurant. I’ll tell you how it was tomorrow.
20-something: It’s okay he doesn’t have a car, I’ll just pick him up. It’s cool.
30-something: What do you mean you don’t have a car? You want me to pick you up? Um, yeah, this ain’t gonna work.
20-something: I really hope he likes me. If he doesn’t, I’ll just die. I mean what’s wrong with me?
30-something: What’s not to like about me? I am what I am, he can take it or leave it. Hell, there’s something wrong with his simple self.
20-something: Boys are stupid.
30-something: Men are stupid.
20-something: It needs to be tight, short and sexy.
30-something: It needs to show off the good parts and hide and contain, smooth and lift the not so good parts.
20-something: That noise? The car turned on, so I’m sure it’s fine. Road trip!
30-something: That noise? It’s a warning sign. Let me handle this now before I’m stuck on the road and have to call triple A.
20-something: This is my jam. I love this radio station.
30-something: I hate the radio, all of this music sucks.
20-something: There were so many cute clothes at the mall today.
30-something: I couldn’t find anything at the mall today.
20-something: Mom and Dad will fix it.
30-something: Mom and Dad, it’s gonna be alright. Let me help.
20-something: Sick days are for really nice weather or really bad weather or days you just don’t feel like going to work or days you want to just stay in the bed with your lover and spoon. All. Day.
30-something: I can’t feel my legs. Fine, I’ll call in sick. I’m going to end up on the evening news for killing an entire department if I go in today. I’m calling in sick. Damn, I can’t get sick, because these sick kids are taking up my sick days. Stay in bed and cuddle? It’s my sick day, not yours. I’ve got cramps. Go on now. Somebody got to go to work today! Can you bring home some dinner? Cough. Cough. Love you too, baby…
20-something: Life is great, I’m young, beautiful and the future is just ahead of me. Who am I going to be?
30-something: Life is good. I survived the mistakes of my 20s and thank God I’m smarter. I’m finally getting it together. I know who I am and that person is flawed and complicated, but still pretty darn great.