I turn 31 in a few weeks time. To be honest I’m actually surprised I’ve reached this lofty age as even as a small child I was convinced I would either be:
- Have killed myself
- Realised that its all a dream and wake up in the shower
But no I made it to 30 (and soon 31) as clearly;
- Not cute enough to be murdered by someone or perhaps I’ve not put myself out there enough to be murdered
- Not been strong enough to go through with it
- Not living in a bad 80s tv show
- Nothing exciting ever happens to me
So sadly I have to face the fact I’m turning 31. No longer a child, no longer a 20 something and not old enough to be considered to be mature lady. At 30 I realise I’ve not reached any milestones – no university degree, no children, no ring on my finger, no home to own just two cats, a rented tiny flat and worse hair then what I had as a teen. I don’t even look 30, I’m permanently stuck in this weird WomanChild faze.
I’m not taken seriously, I do a job that an idiot 18 year old could do, and I still like wearing patterned socks. I dress like a child who has got a bit too excited in the role-play corner at nursery and I act like a petulant teenager. I still get acne and have horrific mood swings when I get my period. I get frustrated at the small things even though I tell myself time and time again that they don’t matter. I procrastinate about everything, too scared to make a decision for fear it will fuck up things more.
I waste time in the hope it means things go away faster. I ignore things that make me unhappy and tell myself it will be better next week. I live and act like a 16 year old thinking that they will never be old and yet here I am, 31 and old. Single and 31. On the shelf and collecting more and more dust and 31. Worrying about if I choked on my dinner tonight that no one would know for days or if I got my ring stuck on my finger, I’d have to go to A&E alone. Going to family events at 31 and having everyone look at you with the pity face of “Ahhh! 31 and still single, I wonder what’s wrong with this one”
I no longer get asked by family when am I getting married and having kids. I’m now on the Spinster List and instead get asked how my two cats are and am presented with presents for them at Christmas in a similar vein of my sister receiving presents for my nieces. I’m done for in their eyes, I know longer even get asked if I’ve met someone nice recently.
I was asked by several friends what I wanted to do for my birthday and what do I want. I tell them nothing and they laugh like I’m joking. I’m not. I honestly don’t want anything. I just want to get through one more year. I want to ignore this slow crawl towards dying and in honesty I’d like it if it hurried the fuck up.
I’m bored of living this exsistance. The film of my life is no longer exciting me and I long for the credits to roll and fade into black.
So life, do us all a favour and change the reel. No one wants to see 32 least of all me. Unless we are suddenly going to get a good plot twist or handsome bearded man riding a unicorn entering stage right.