an ode to age(ing)

My best friend turned 32 this past weekend, and I’m not too far behind. To me, 32 still seems rather young. It is young! 40 is totally the new 30, right? Either way, there are a few things I’ve caught myself doing and thinking lately where I’ve actually had to stop and laugh at how much I’ve aged – in both brain and body. Also, how much I’m becoming like my mother. Which is cool, because she’s a total fox.

I now find the local radio station way more entertaining than 5fm. Yes, even the music is better, in my opinion. And the presenters all seem to be well educated and knowledgable, rather than just full of hot air. Sorry mom for making you listen to a loud, screaming Mark Pilgrim (edit – I obviously meant Mark Gillman. This clearly indicates my memory loss) in my youth. I totally get now why you wanted to listen to Daryl Ilbury and why traffic reports are so vitally important.

I just don’t get this long, pointy fingernail trend as sported by Kyle K and the gang. I can still appreciate how cool it looks, but… I mean… I just have to ask: how do you wipe your bum. Seriously? How?

I don’t wear thongs anymore. Ever. Not even when I’m wearing tight, white jeans. You can see my pantyline? So? IDGAF. At least I remembered to put panties on today.

Shaving my legs has become a waste of precious time rather than a necessity. In fact, so has blowdrying my hair (hence the new short do) and applying makeup. I’m becoming more androgynous by the day and I actually love the freedom it brings.

I seriously considered buying myself a bag of weed the other day to replace my Friday evening wine / wind down sessions. This is mainly because a) my hangovers are so bad these days that they’re almost not worth the wine, and b) I can’t fathom wasting another precious Saturday morning lying in the foetal position on the couch. There are markets to attend, people! And mountains to climb!  And fresh produce to purchase! And local farmers to support! (as I type this, 23-year-old me cringes inside. And takes another bite of a greasy Big Mac.)

I have replaced fashion and fitness magazines with home and food magazines and spend a lot of time vacuuming and cleaning. Trips to the Garden Centre and Builders’ Warehouse seem to make me excited, rather than suicidal.

Fresh flowers and scented candles are a thing. A thing I get.

The prospect of having children doesn’t seem so bad anymore. They make wonderful excuses. Don’t want to go to a braai? “Little Molly is so sick, sorry, we couldn’t possibly bring her.” Also, being pregnant means non-frowned upon daytime naps and no hangovers for nine months? Bliss! Perhaps even worth the torn vagina and life-long responsibility.

I exercise not to look skinny now, but to prevent falling apart at the seams and melting into a pile of soft, wrinkly flesh.

I spend 90% of my money on food. And skincare. A choice I am obviously more than happy to make. I’m even considering challenging myself to purchasing only secondhand clothes (and I mean SPCA secondhand, not fancy vintage secondhand) for the whole of next year. Anyone want to join me? (also, I’ve been around long enough now to know that flared, high waisted pants, florals, prints, lace and military wear come back into style every.damn.season.)

I plan my day, and sometimes weeks, around the need to go into town and grocery shop. I used to just pop down to the store if I needed something as trivial as a packet of chewing gum. Sometimes three times a day. Now I’m like, Oh my god, Parking! Petrol! People! Have to get out of gym clothes! Have to put makeup on! Meh. I’ll go tomorrow.

Andrew and I downloaded an app the other day which ensures that you get at least eight hours of sleep a night. Yup. I’m just going to leave it at that.

we are the wildflowers blog - age

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  1. I just turned 31 and can identify with EVERYTHING you just wrote. I am loving this time in my life though. I wouldn’t want to go back to my early 20’s even for a second. That time of my life was far to stressful. I am still a stress bucket but for very different reasons and I’m ok with that.

    1. Oh ya – I would never go back to early 20s. Much prefer life now. I would, however, totally take back my early 20s alcohol tolerance.

  2. I love you! This is SO me right now haha. In bed by 9:30 and I don’t even care. (Even on some Saturdays) 😉 Xx

  3. Oh my goodness. I relate to ALL of this! Especially the ‘ exercising to keep yourself from falling apart at the seams’ bit. Such a great post, Keri!
    PS: What’s that app called?! Must have!

  4. I think you mean Mark Gillman 🙂 mark pilgrim was the bald head softy 🙂 the other day I complained about how awful 5fm is these days and someone (quite rightly) told me it’s just because I am getting old

    1. Yes! You’re so right! You see how old I’m getting!! Haha. I used to love 5fm too, but I’m all about Smile Fm now.

  5. I loved this! I identify with so much of it. I had put most of it down to mothering, feel quite relieved to know it’s more likely my 31 years of wisdom;) I don’t even own make-up anymore, and I buy so few clothes, getting them from SPCA shops wouldn’t even be a big thing! I even have now, wait for it, a mending basket! I tend to the holes in my clothes in the evenings (sometimes in front of the fire), and IDGAF if anyone sees the patches.

    1. Haha! I feel that that is exactly where I’m headed to. Literally just enquiring about a service for my gran’s old sewing machine.

  6. This had me snort laughing because I identify with every. single. point!
    Often I think of the old Bailey (um, young Bailey?) and think OMG – she wouldn’t recognise this Bailey… luckily we do grow up though and love the skin we’re in or are learning to love where we are right now!
    Thank you for this – it was so good to read!

  7. I am 31 and can agree with almost all of the above – and it feels so darn good. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my 20’s but I don’t miss them!
    I may miss the odd no-kids-days, a little more carefree… x

    1. Thanks Jaclyn! And thanks for your order! I really appreciate it 🙂
      I do hope you have saved up for my newsletter xxx

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