If I could turn back time

Turn back time_small

I have 13 days left of being in my 30s. Most of my best friends have already hit the big 4-0 this year and so far they haven’t had to buy any walking-frames, hairnets or Viagra. Don’t know if any grey pubes have popped up yet though. I must ask them.

As I count down the days until I will never again have a 3 in front of age, my mind turns to what I have experienced over the past decade and whether I will look back fondly on the 10 years I spent as a 30-something-year-old. No doubt I will whenever I look at the photos of my fairly wrinkle and worry-free face but such a milestone also gives me time to reflect on the highs and the lows of my life in the single lane during the 2000s.

  • I started my 30s as a very broke journalist. I even had to borrow money off my father to shift to another town so I could start a new job. I also had a very crap car called Sylvia because she was, ah, silver;
  • As I end my 30s I realise that I recently borrowed money off both my mother and my father (separately) to pay off my university debt and to buy an investment property. It’s good to see parents are still very helpful even when you are about to hit middle age. I also still have a very crap, but ultimately cute, car called Betsy which has a driver’s side door that only opens from the inside;
  • In my early 30s, I fell in love with a drug-addled musician who broke my heart so horrendously I ended up going to mosaic classes with my mother to try and get my head right;
  • In my late 30s, I am footloose and fancy-free and last night spent a glorious evening with a super-hot man, who I have been friends with for 18 months, where we shared a first kiss so ridiculously passionate I felt like I was 16 all over again. Oh and he also happens to be a racing car driver;
  • I learned in my 30s never to get into terminal relationships with alcoholic lawyers x 2;
  • I said goodbye permanently to some friends who have inspired me to love every day of getting older – including turning 40 – because they will never get that chance;
  • In my mid-30s I became a cougar for a number of years (long before it was fashionable I might add). That relationship taught me how to be vulnerable, and how to love and be loved, but ultimately it taught me that a large age difference always matters in the end;
  • I became an aunty two more times and a godmother once more;
  • At 38, I thought about going to a sperm bank and having a baby all by myself, but once my tubes had been given a bit of a service, the first fertility pill made me go so loony I quickly realised I was more than happy being just an aunty and a godmother. Period;
  • I discovered that I am actually quite a good boss, even though my staff sometimes look at me like I am an alien from the planet Old Lady;
  • I wrote a book that no one wants to publish so am seriously considering using it as fuel for a bonfire on Guy Fawkes Night – all that paper and ink surely must surely go off like a firecracker (a bit like its author given half the bloody chance);
  • My life has been enriched by many new friends, and some old friendships spanning 25 years or more, all of whom still seem reasonably happy to put up with me – which I am eternally grateful for;
  • And throughout my 30s I continued to understand that when all is said and done family means everything, and you only ever get one mum.

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