A lot of people, not just women, seem to dread turning thirty, like it’s some impending deadline before we turn into (gasp!) grown-ups. This arbitrary distinction always flummoxed me. It’s just a number, right? Maybe when I was younger, I would see jokes made on sit-coms or hear women complaining about the big 3-0, and perhaps I bought into it. But as I slowly crept through my late twenties, I relished the idea of 30. Perhaps the pendulum was swinging too far in the opposite direction, but I was stoked to finally be an adult, to get my shit together, to feel like I knew my place in the world. I turned thirty in August of 2015 and, although I did have a job (finally, after 2 years of depressing partial-employment after my cancer treatment), I didn’t really feel all that “put-together.” Then, a month later, I saw this little gem of a magazine cover:
What is this shit? THIS is 30? What about the rest of us? The non-celebrity, not-so-powerful, not-so-successful, non-photoshopped, potentially frumpy ladies out there? I can appreciate the attempt to make 30 feel less threatening, but c’mon! And I also realize this is a fashion magazine, and I shouldn’t take it personally, because this is what fashion magazine’s do. But for whatever reason, it really hit me. It offended me. Now before you say “Oh you millennials get offended by EVERYTHING,” let me counter by saying a) I am not a millennial. I don’t know how all of a sudden everyone who was born within a 40 year time period is suddenly in the same generation and b) How would you like it if a magazine told you that THIS was what someone your age should be, not what you actually are. Needless to say, despite all logical rationalization to the contrary, I was bummed and felt inadequate. So I had an idea. Why not try and make my OWN magazine cover, for us chubbettes, for those of us who got totally screwed by the recession and the concept of “follow your dream” after our bachelor’s degrees turned into “good fucking luck.” So this is what I came up with:
Forgive my poor photoshopping skills (yikes, my right arm is crunchy!) and my ill-fated attempt at matching the fonts. I want you to know that the only post-production work done on this was some color correction in Lightroom, and of course removing the background and adding a gradient and words in photoshop. But the point is not my amazing photoshopping skills, the point is that Keira Knightley isn’t the only 30-year-old in this piece. BOOM! This is what 30 is about, for me at least. Sagging breasts, dimpled thighs (both are beautiful!), my little thyroidectomy scar, my Jewish nose, my crazy pink hair (RIP, pink hair), and my ill-fitting romper. And you know what? I love it all! Don’t be afraid of 30, people! It’s just a number. Growing old is mandatory, but growing up is optional. Just because there’s a three in front of my age doesn’t mean I have to stop shopping at the stores I want, or listening to the music I want, or playing the video games that I want. It’s just a number. And in a few short months, I’ll be 31, and THAT will be just a number. And all the numbers after that, each one more awesome than the last. Embrace your numbers, whether they be age, weight, or anything other measurement. They are just numbers, and do not reflect who you are as a person. Remember that 🙂 Cheers, my lovelies.