Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Battle of the Ages

I recently turned thirty. And while I’m not quite old enough to qualify for the early bird special. I’m still…old. Okay, not old, but I’m not the spry chicken I used to be. As I prepared for and celebrated my big Three Oh I noticed there are some distinct differences between celebrating your 21st birthday and your 30th.

Drinking at 21:
The morning of your 21st, you wake up and are all, “OMG! I can drink!!!” You have a mimosa for breakfast followed by after breakfast drinks, followed by a liquid lunch then mid-afternoon drinks, followed by drinks while getting ready (don’t spill your rum and coke in the shower!), followed by pre-party drinks followed by PARTY TIME DRINKS!!

You arrive at Da Club and explode from excitement. “What?! Girls drink free?! This is great!!! Shots for all my friends! Living in a college town is great! Another round of free drinks!”

Drinking at 30:
You declare to everyone within earshot that you  need to drink something light or you’ll feel bloated all day. And nothing with sugar. You don’t want to have to double time it at the gym. Suddenly you feel nostalgic for a time when you could eat and drink whatever you want, wake up the next morning and magically look like your skinny, sexy self again. Ah, the good ol’ Sleep Your Fat Away workout routine. Those were the days…

You order a non-bloaty drink from a bar and nearly choke on the price. Ten dollars?!  Is this liquor made of gold? You ask for a water and another one for later because hydration is important. And also? TEN DOLLARS! This bitch is on a budget.

The Outfit at 21:
You find exactly what you’re looking for at the This Isn’t Slutty It’s Sexy store: a backless shirt with a plunging neckline and pants so tight your friends have to sew you in.

The Outfit at 30:
You walk into store and need help.

Salesgirl: Can I help you?

You: Yes, I’m looking for something cute but sophisticated. And also a little sexy. But not like trashy sexy. More like sexy sexy. And something that camouflages here. *points to stomach* and slims here *points to thighs* and makes my boobs look perky. Like if they could talk they would say, “I still know how to have a good time, but a classy good time, not a whorey good time.” Got anything like that?

The answer is, No. No they don’t.

The Hairstyle at 21:
You spend two hours curling, fluffing, and styling to achieve the right amount of body, shine and flowy-ness.

The Hairstyle at 30:
You spend two hours trying to hide the grey.

The Party at 21:
You are an energizer bunny on crack. You’re all “Woo!!” and “Hoo!!” And “Wooooo hoooo!” You lay out by the pool all day and get your tan until it’s time to party til the break of dawn. You’re gonna drink and dance and drink and party and dance and IT’S GONNA BE CRAZY!!!!

The Party at 30:
You can’t wait to lie by the pool and just relax. You rent a cabana because, after all, the sun is bad for your skin. And even though you’re fully shielded from its evil rays, you set the alarm on your phone for every fifteen minutes so you remember to reapply the sunscreen.

Most importantly, you really hope you get a chance to nap before dinner.

Dancing at 21:
Look at you dropping it like it’s hot! Damn you look good, people better watch you back that ass up! Do you wanna go on stage? Heck yeah you do! EVERYONE should get to see those sexy dance moves.

Dancing at 30:
Dancing? No one told you there’d be dancing. Before you drop it and break it, you change into your tennis shoes with the good ankle support. And dammit! You knew you should have brought your knee brace.

You start to shimmy and shake and think, I still got it. I’m hot. Look at me move my hips. I’m sexy, I’m…


Oh shit. What was that? It was either my back or my hip. Or my knees. It definitely could have been my knees. Medic!

The Morning After at 21:
Your head is throbbing, your mouth tastes like sandpaper and you’ve never been so thirsty in your life. It’s entirely possible you have vomit in your hair. As you eat your greasy hangover food you swear you’re never going to drink again. By seven o’clock that night you’re doing “Shots, shots, shots, shotsshotsshots!” and getting ready to go out again.

The Morning After at 30:
Other than a throbbing hip, back and knees you feel great! You’re little tired, but that’s to be expected. You did stay up past midnight. You meet your friends for breakfast and no one makes any plans to party again for at least a month.

Yes, twenty one was great, but I think thirty is better. After all, with age comes wisdom. And wisdom is way better than awesome dance moves.

However, I almost microwaved metal the other day. So, lucky me, I’m an idiot who can’t dance. Thirty sucks.

Comment gems!

I'm scarfing down as much bacon as I can before the Apocalypse reaches my corner of the world.

It always amazes what people google to get to my blog. The weirdest ones were "pumpkin thong pulled aside" and "elephant bookmobile." Okaaay.

oh.... i was gonna ask something about your vagina. never mind then.



  1. Congrats on the big 3-0!!!! You are a very wise YOUNG woman. I didn't figure out all of those drinking at 30 items you mentioned until last year and I'm staring the big 5-0 in the face. Some folks obviously ride the short bus.

  2. As a recent addition to the 30 club, you NAILED it!!!

    (I haven't tried microwaving metal recently but I did put hand cream in my hair instead of my mousse.) (Note: hand cream does not give the same results as mousse.)

  3. Happy 30th!
    I had a big blowout on my 30th because I figured it would be the last one. A little less beer and more ice tea if you will, afterward.
    then 40 loomed ahead...and well, one can't be expected to handle that shit sitting down and sober.
    When your turn comes, call me. I'll totally hold your hair back :)

  4. Happy belated birthday!

    I've reached the stage where if I walk into any clothing store other than Muumuus 'N Mom Jeans 'R Us, the staff just won't bother talking to me.

  5. Spot on. Of course, I didn't drink much in college either. Now everything that has alcohol in it gives me heartburn. I have to make sure to have some TUMS in my pocket if I do a girls night out. LOL

  6. I have yet to hit either birthday! I'll keep this in mind. =P

    Although on the other hand, up here kids are legal at 18. But I never did the whole party + booze celebration thing; I just wasn't the type as a teenager.

  7. Happy 30! this was hilarious, but try 47!!!! OMG... life isn't the same anymore. what I wouldn't give to be 30 again. Enjoy it missy!! it goes toooooo fast.

  8. Happy Birthday! I'm definitely closer to acting like a 50 year old than anything else. Yawn. Damn kids nowadays.

  9. This is so so so true!! I just turned 31. I had two beers, some pasta, and passed out watching Sherlock Holmes. I woke up the next morning with gas and a zit. Happy effing birthday.

  10. happy belated, and I for one loved 30. Especially now that I'm closer to 40 ;)

  11. Dang, you just turned 30, eh? Well happy birthday! I have enjoyed my 30s much more than I did my 20s, white hair, wrinkles and all :D

  12. Life Choices at 21:
    Sure that sounds like a good degree to have. Whatever.

    Life Choices at 30:
    I guess it's time to go back to college and get a degree I actually want a career in.

  13. Happy birthday. 30 is the new 20. I swear i hate people who say that...

  14. Welcome to the club... At this point, trying to ever make birthdays (milestones excluded) as exciting as 21 is dumb, and dangerous for us over-the-hillers. I don't wish I could still do it. The thought of LEAVING the house at 11pm, to go drinking for several hours, only to come home, throw up, and feel like a bag of smashed assholes for three days isn't really appealing.

  15. Hmm, sounds accurate to me. For my recent 30th I chose my outfit around the outer layer first, because I didn't want to get too cold. In my 20's, an outer layer was optional! At my 30th party I started to get a headache on about drink number 4, then we headed straight home once the pub closed at midnight, I drank a cup of tea and then tumbled in to bed. That sure was a wild night.

  16. When I think back to what I did in my twenties I cringe. But I also high five myself.
    There's a reason judgement doesn't developed until we're 25.


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