Yesterday might quite possibly have been one of the most bizarre Valetine's Days I've ever had. I won't go into details, but I was the recipient of invitations and gifts that actually had the words "unvalentine, depressed, heartachy, lonely," on them. I began to wonder if unbeknownst to me, the word Loser was shining bright on my forehead. But the Princess and Sarah sent me fun Valentine's!!! I also did not receive a drunk dial two weeks ago which resulted in an ex boyfriend trying to 'con' me into a date on VDay. He he he - she of whom I speaks, knows I'm talking about her. =)
I decided three-four days ago that I need to take a vacation for me after by 30 birthday coming up on March 18. I remember having discussions with my grandma (the greatest woman, EVER) about growing old. I used to laugh and get aggravated when I saw women coloring their gray away and throwing a fit about turning 30. Fast forward to Alison at age 27, and suddenly I'm dreading the big 3-0 and am regularly getting highlights done because I found one gray hair on my head. (I'm now up to 4-6.)
Here is the Alison I wish to be right now. (No, that is not an actual photo of me at age 9. I had crazy thick, curly hair.) Forever the crazy little girl, playing the boys' games and making up her own crazy dance moves to worship songs at church camp. =) LOLOL And let us not forget that I'd be allowed to swim in stagnant cow ponds, coming home with pink eye, splashing gasoline on my skin to 'kill' said cowpond germs, killing snakes with a garden hoe. Or digging up something in our yard. We found bizarre stuff buried way deep: one time we found an entire piece of farming equipment (the type you hitch up to a horse,) and our mom made us put all the dirt back. Always accompanied by my dog, Bo, the son of Patches and Caesar. P and C were married and buried in my front yard. The hills of their graves would be where we rode our bikes for good jumps. Ahhh, yes, the good ole' days.So on March 19, I will head north to a cabin for a couple of days by myself. Ahhh, in the words of that socially retarded, yet wildly hilarious, character, George Costanza, "Serenity now...."
2 comments:
I don't want to be 30 either but I have to admit that I find myself getting better with age. I think we're all better women at this age then when we were young-things in our 20s. Embrace yourself, Alison.
as someone who decided earlier on that i would stop aging when i hit 25, i can understand how you feel. getting older it scary. however as i turned 27 earlier this year, i thought to myself: what would be the point of trying to remain 25? im in a much better place at 27, then i was at 25. in just two short years, i have a fresh perspective on things that i couldn't have at 25. this year brings new opportunities and new possibilities that the previous years couldn't. so, show 30 just how fab you are.
-m
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