What it REALLY feels like to be in your 30s..

You might have already guessed my age if you have read my previous entries so I am not going to bore you anymore with the finer details.. but just for digs, I will divulge that it has been several years since that big dirty thirty birthday has passed.

So friends, I celebrated mine with a big bang..oops sorry, pardon me excuse me, I meant to say with the big apple, because me and my ex-friend (KIDDING, NOT EX JUST YET) flew 27 hours from Singapore to New York for a celebration. (She is also a fellow Octo baby so we were having a conjoined twin moment.) I digress. It is also momentous for me to point out that it was a very lengthy flight, my friend has giraffe legs and I have taken the responsibility to book us some “special extra-leg-space inflight seats”. To surmise, those special seats happened to be seats infront of a frigging toilet, we were so blessed to then undertook the diligent voluntary tasks of tracking down passengers’ communal activities throughout the entirety of the flight. (We could guessed if they had the curry beef or the chicken pormodoro pasta for lunch. Yep!!)

Quite clearly, that shiet (pardon the pun) went down exceptionally well and the entire trip was, all in all, a welcoming experience to the new decade. SUCCESS ALL AROUND!!!!

Now sisters.. and of course brothers (no gender discrimination here), 30s is NOT the new 20s. You might like to muse so, but regrettably, when you turn 30, you are not a spring chicken no more my dear, at least this for sure I know, I creak like a bloody old mattress with rusty springs underneath it.

My 20s was a pretty chaotic mayhem and just about many years of being dishevelled and disarray. I was a clueless cat pretending to know stuff about life, when we all know that in your 20s, you are practically wet behind your ears and your mama is still washing your underwear for you. Well for me, sometimes my dad does the laundry on the weekend.. ok, that’s a different story for another blog.

Thanks to TubbyT for this brilliant topic suggestion and just for cackles (she is turning 30 in couple of months so this is pretty apt I’d say), I compiled a few tongue-in-cheek personal pointers about skimming life in your 30s. This is, I reiterate, my personal experience, so if you are reading along and your ego alarm is beeping with “I already did that/It already happened to me in my 20s”, remember that life is not a competition and there are no awards to be given out here but more power to you, honey.

The best part of being in your 30s is.. your newfound attitude.
It is called the F*ck-it attitude.
See, I have always been generally blase about what evolves around me in my 20s, I will be lying if I say I am never wary about what others think of me. I do care but never for long (hence why I never got around to the losing weight memo, it is currently on no.72 on my to do list), but my I-dont-care attitude legit got even worse now that I am in my 30s.
Sorry what was that? You don’t like my face. Oh I know but I JUST DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK OF ME, BECKY!!!
If you don’t pay my rent or put food on my table or in my mouth (whichever is convenient), I will no longer coven about your perceptions and standpoints. Sorry, a little standoffish but this is L.I.F.E. If you are going round your block, absorbing like a sponge what every tom, dick or harry opined about you, you will be a rotting weed shrivelling with strangers’ incessant stance on life. Move on with your own independent thoughts.

In my 20s, I will rock up to work every single day with a full face of makeup, starched shirts and tight skirts and ankle-breaking stilettos.
Now in my 30s, on a good weekend , you might just be lucky enough to catch me in my grey tattered brooklyn tshirt, denim cut-offs riding up my butt cheeks, ratty havaianas and certainly no bra. Do I care? Abso-fcking-lutely not.

In your 30s, accept that life is more free-ing, as cliche as this may be. Sure, always keep your morale compass in check and your standards relatively high, but other trifling things that goes around in your life in your 30s, is just that.. trivial and merely petty. You might expect to be slightly less edgier and “looser”around those tight knit beliefs you held out for so long in your 20s. Expect that in your 30s, nothing much will really earth-shatter and shake your ground, you are a cool confident cat. (Have always been but even more so, now)

In your 30s, your social activities will significantly be redefined
Back in my 20s and in Singapore, I knocked off work no earlier than 7 or 8 pm and then I will gallivant around the office, have a little frolick with my working mates and I will officially strut off for my post-work cafe hours at about 9. We have ladies nights on Wednesdays, pretend to be normal human beings on Thursdays and then we do it all over again on Friday nights and lets not talk about the weekends.

10pm NOW is my official sleeping time. 10pm NOW is me in my pajamas, my Yankee candle warmly litted, lavender aromatherapy oil on freshly laundered pillow case, my dinner taken and tomorrow’s lunch packed away, my snacks in front of me and Netflix to be watched. And of course, where’s my cat? Is she napping, has she taken her dinner for the 45th time since I come home from work and has she been given her chin rubs? See, equally busy if not busier now.

Anyways, yes of course, these days I still anticipate the weekends, I am not dead in my soul just yet guys, weekends is still very important for me because that’s when my Coles delivery man will show up at my door. He is providing my sustenance, so surely that’s exciting.

Expect that in your 30s, turning up and showing up for public events does not come naturally with enthusiasm of life, it does however come with a basket of sorry-I cannot-make-it excuses and a woeful of hesitations. I have to admit it does take heaps of efforts to leave the house sometimes.
Sorry, will there be people in your party?
Yes? Oh, I can’t come then, I need to hang out with my cat

I genuinely feel that it its not that being in our 30s, we have lost the zest, but I feel like at the back of our heads we know that we have done most of it all in our 20s and that was one hell of a tiring decade. Sure, you will still keep up on with the social whats-ups but only for prodigious events and momentous landmarks of your love and dear ones, those that you really bother to show your face to and for those who you really care for. Otherwise I bet that you will rather be nicely cocooned with a good book, a good telly in the crooks of your own home. (or if you are like my said beforementioned friend, she prefers to clean for 6 hours on a Friday night, but hey, that’s her style and I am not judging)

Now on the very odd rare occasion that I do go out (insert celebratory woohooss and party sprinklers sound effect), my pre-game now is a tad different to my pre-game in my 20s. My pre-game in my 20s is starting out at 12pm and then I will lost my plot mid-way and I will not really be sure what happened in the end..hmmmmm
But NOW in my 30s, my pre-game secret is a mixed concoction of 3 in 1 coffee and panadol extra. And of course, I do not have to remind you that I have to be home by 9pm. Yass queens, nan-life has officially happened.

Hangovers in your 30s last for just about..17 days and then some.
Long gone were the days where I will trot home way past midnight.. on a working day, slept with a face full of makeup drunk or no drunk, and then to spring out of my bed ninja style next morning and do life with gusto all over again. It does not matter how much alco is in my system the night before, it will mysteriously resets itself come dawn. That was my 20s.

These days, I will get a tad too excited about going out, had a few too many just before said event, puked on people and on ownself, lost a piece or two of my own clothing, cried pitifully to husband that my head is spinning ala Kylie Minogue style and that I am going to die very soon, reaching home at 7pm to puke even more and sleep for 13 hours straight and of course die in embarrassment on the couch for the whole of the next day. Irregardless, it goes without saying that, there will be that silent vow of alco-celibacy for about 4 months or as such time when the said embarrassment dissipates.

Ahh life.

In your 20s, you are crispy Maccas french fries
In your 30s, you are officially a mashed potato from your local pub
God, I am so emotional these days, I cannot even tell you why. I swear it came from nowhere. Like out of the blue, the aliens from the sensitivity planet came and has audaciously poked me with one of their over-sensitive poison while I was sleeping one night.

One of my cousins might remember this story, when we were growing up (I think we were only 9 or 10), the world wide web aka the internet is still very fuzzy about certain viewing controls so much so that we happened to stumble onto some “funny” websites which then lead us to cheekily google and watch beheading videos (my idea, not his). I know this is very naughty of us. I remembered that he cried his head off, he wailed while he scuttle all over the house. I am pretty convinced that those videos are staged and faked but it did not help my cousin’s yowling. Meanwhile I continued to watch till the very end and then some more and all throughout, I just laugh like.. proper hearty laugh, I actually thought it was funny (of course on hindsight now, that is very satanic of me, but back then I did not think very much of it). I could sleep peacefully that night but I really cannot say the same for my cousin. Sowie 😦

I think when God made me, HE skipped out on the sensitivity part. I was cold-hearted blood curdling beast of a child, I will not cry for much. However, what HE missed out on me all throughout my yuppie-hood of a life, he certainly has over-blessed me in my 30s. I am now, a woman wrapped in cotton wool, I am now proud to declare that I am a messy crying shambles 30 seconds into watching reunion videos of dogs and their soldier owners on Youtube (thank you God for the generous gift of emotions in my 30s, you did not have to, but thank you kindly)

Expect that in your 30s, you will be a slight softie. You have officially phased through your hard-core moments in your 20s and all that pent-up punk ass attitude has blanched out. You are, my friend, no longer that raw carrot, you are now a pureed carrot. Sweet and mashed.

In my 20s, I will stagger in front of the mirror and wonder for like 5 seconds if I have taken off last night’s contact lenses, but these days in my 30s, I will stand in front of the mirror while listening to morning positive affirmation videos, and tell myself that “Today is a good day, I am beautiful and strong and confident and I am exactly where I need to be in life”. I will do exactly what the random man on the motivation video says, and then I will see my husband laughing at me from the corner of my eye. Let’s ignore him, he is jealous that I am in-tune with my body and that the universe is aligned with my visualisations.

I will then spend 10 minutes doing my morning meditation, for the fear that failing which, I will crawl to the office and bite my grumpy boss’s head off.

In your 20s, your drive and your strut is HD crystal clear quality but when you reach your 30s, expect that most things including your drive in life is fairly mellow and nebulous; cloudy and hazy round the edges.

In your 30s, your circle of friends is specifically tapered..
Expect to no longer be a social butterfly and that most people will repulse the daylight out of you. Most people will also, at this juncture of your life, cut you out ala Project Runway elimination round. When this happens, take a deep breath and say thank you next (no kidding), simply move on. It is fine when this happens because now that you are in your 30s remember that you do not need… yes what’s that? Yup, toxic friendship. I do not need to remind you that your time is very precious and that you need to eat your joint supplement and hit the sack by 9pm.

See preceding toxic friend post for further details

In your 30s, you certainly do not run for the bus and you most surely do not chase, just about anyone
Background story: I met my husband when I was inching closer to the end of my 20s. I was then, “single” for about 4-5 years, before which I was actually engaged to be married to another heck of a man. (no shade, we have cordially moved on)-I actually love how I am relaying my history in a backward fashion manner. Anywho, one of the first few conversations that I had with my now-husband-then-random-Italian looking-man, was that I certainly have shelved the idea of a marriage because of my previous scars but if things were to turn out for the good for us, I will NOT like to play the stringing-me-along-for-years-and-then-you-will-dump me game. It was very unlike me to not chicken out on grave matters of the heart but I also blazon on to him that I am not in the market for a pen-pal seeing that we are living in different continents, so 2 unequivocal choices either we become strangers OR we become serious. That poor man decided to take the less than smart route and long story short, he is now stuck with me forever. Bless him.

In your 20s, you are bothered, to dress up, to flirt, to play, to wait, to ponder, to evaluate and then wait some more and then play a little more and then flirt and flirt and wait.
In your 30s, it is either black or white, left or right, love or no love. Expect that you know you will deserve no less than a bunch of malarkeys and baloneys from a bunch of random dudettes. You know what you want from the get-go and you will propel forward in pursue of what your heart desires. You, in your 30s, do not waste superflous time. Decisiveness, if it has not come to you in your 20s, will hit you in your face in your 30s. It will hit you hard, like a smack with a chair kind of hard.

Everything is painful when you wake up
Remember my waking up like a ninja story earlier, that ninja has now long retired, mate. These days, almost every morning when I wake up, it is a slow rise out of the bed, not because I am busy thanking the universe and God consecutively that I am still alive (yes I do the thanking, later on in the day after my brekkie) but it is a slow rise out of the bed because I am just meticulously making sure that my torso is still intact, my sole did not get swollen overnight, my hip did not get dislocated from all that tossing and turning, my knees are doing fine and that I did not grow a beard overnight (hairy girls problem). These days, I will sit for 3 hours at work, stand up to go to the loo and will walk away like a hunchback of notre dame with my back almost 30 degrees lower to the ground, I swear with age comes gravity, I SWEAR (first is the back and then the boobs, and then nevermind..!!)

I use to never be an ardent fan of the painkillers but I am now officially, a walking pharmacy. In my 20s, I am invincible and I was never afraid to die. Now in my 30s, I get tension migraines all the time, just by thinking about stress. I may not be stress just yet, but just thinking about stress makes me stress and then the migraines will come, and out comes my ye’faithful alliance, Panadol E!! I carry with me a buffet of drugs to cover my impending sickness (JUST IN CASE, GUYS. ALWAYS BE PREPARED), because you will never know who might give you the flu next.

It will happen either gradually or overnight. But, all at once, you will soon realise that those extensive nights from the long gruelling years of you standing in your 6 inch high heels, rocking and gyrating to the music is going to affect you and your creaky knees. All those late nights and early wake-ups effed your sleeping patterns, your body is no longer the one that functions impecabbly well in your 20s, it just does not. It is like, overnight, my left knee decide to check out and say, SEE YAAAAAAAAA!!! I kid you not, even my collarbone is creaking and I have never even attempted a headstand successfully before, so I have no idea how that came about.

Sometimes, I wonder if this is a natural process to humble one to slow down and appreciate what is left of the body. I know that it will not get any better moving forward in life but one can only hope that this body deterioration will just hold up and take its own bloody time, because why thank you, I still prefer to walk and not be rolled around when I am 60. Fingers crossed!!!

In my 20s, my makeup routine every morning was a 20 products step
In my 30s..my skincare routine is all of only 13 steps +++
Well, I can yap all day and all night about skincare because that is my recent mojo, having turned 30. I AM NOW UTTERLY BESOTTED WITH SKINCARE so you can come and talk to me about them!!!

I am (not a shameless plug I swear) in the midst of churning up my skincare entry and that should drop in a month or so, which I am ridiculously enthralled about because I will like to share with friends and family what truly helped to transform my problematic skin to… hmm less problematic skin (gosh why am I speaking like a Loreal spokesperson, my pores are laughing right now) .

But just touching on this briefly, in my 20s, I have an absolutely non-existent pedantic skincare routine, I have 1 Neutrogena cleanser, a face full of 99 problems and a wardrobe full of makeup. What I lacked in skin health, I make it up in 7 layers of foundation. I never leave home without makeup, in my 20s, like never ever. It was not until I moved to Sydney and was hit with a tsunami of realisation that my face is literally cracking and flaking with deep set lines around my mouth, a nose full of blackheads and inflamed blemishes, and no, not because it was in the middle of winter but my face was actually peeling in the middle of freaking summer. So if that is not a problem big enough to garner my attention, I do not know what is. Oh, for the love of serums and essences.

My memory is pristine..not
Wait.. why am I talking about my memory again???

I am a very gassy adult now.. and I am not proud of it
Like pant-ripping gassy every. single. day after lunch
I wish I am one of those people who can angelically burp silently and be-gone with the unnecessary tummy wind for the day. I am not a pro burper so that is one skill I cannot hone at. I, however just need 30 bloody private seconds in my office toilet to rip it out. JUST 30 SECONDS GUYS, PLEASE DON’T COME BARGING IN EVERY MINUTE!! MAMA NEEDS TO UN-WIND FOR A SECOND!! OKAY MAYBE NOT A SECOND, MAYBE GIVE ME JUST 30 SECONDS. THANKS!!

Why do we get so gassy as we get older? I was not gassy in my 20s and I certainly have no issues with bloated stomach back then. Sure I was never in shape but I never have bowel problems or gassy problems or any problems, for that matter. It is so effing embarrassing. Every single day after lunch, on the dot of 2pm onwards, my stomach will start playing a full rendition of 16-string quartet from the sydney opera house performance. No matter if I eat good or I eat rubbish, all the wind in the world will be amazingly trapped in my 6-packs abs. I will be silently holding that tornado of a gas in me until I reach home and it is so uncomfortable for hours. I do not reckon it is healthy but I do not really have a choice. There are days where I am pretty convinced, I will do a teeny stretch and let one rip out. And then I will never come to back work again, the next day or any other day moving forward.

These are all I can whipped up at the moment and I had every bit of fun conjuring this entry up, as I hope you were, when you are reading this.

I know I know, 30s is not that old and some of you might read this and say “ohoh wait till you are in your 40s/50s/60s” but nonetheless, we are all human on our own life paths and the most stellar recourse is to practice your gratitude every single day, irregardless of which age bracket you are. We are all given this opportunity of a life for a reason, and let that not be in vain.

If you are ushering your 30s, it will most certainly be a pleasurable time of your life so enjoy, enjoy and enjoy (note to self). It is a decade of fresh certainties and in whichever way you feel like you have come undone in your 20s, your 30s will be where you ravel your life back.

Not all my questions have been answered in life, for sure, but for the most part of it, all the doubts in my 20s have been mostly satiated. All I can say is bring it on 40 and the rest of my life, because you know what they always say, life has only just begun.

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I am secretly a cat.. Fine, just a random crazy cat lady who was born and bred in humid Singapore but one day, after 31 years of crazy-rich-asian-not life decided to pack her entire life and move to Sydney to be with the love of her life, and so a whirlwind of life entails..

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