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23 August 2007
Speaking of old people... I guess I'm officially one of them.→[More:] At age 30, the human body's major organs begin to decline.... Which means I've been on the downslope for years. Time to start thinking more about sex, I guess.
Ha! A few years ago, I mentioned some malady in passing to my older brother. He arched a brow at me, said, "What are you, 30? Yeah, that's when it all starts going to hell."
eh, I'm quite old, and feel great. Better than I did at 30, when I was having migraines and backaches all the time. YMMV, and stress, or lack of it, as well as how you eat, sleep, and so on, has a lot to do with it - but it's not always the case that you just keep feeling worse.
Up to a point.
(I'm not even reading the article, because I don't want to find out how I'm supposed to be feeling.)
except that my hip hurts when I run now and I can't drink as much as I used to and I get backaches and actually have to go to bed before 11 now and please somebody help me it's all falling apart
I'm a lot more physically fit than I was at 30. I think I look better (hell, I can afford better haircuts now), and I don't smoke anymore. So I wouldn't trade 38 (there I said it) for 30.
I've enjoyed my 30s more than any other time in my life since the age of 7 or so. Until I was struck by a car this winter, I was strong and flexible and my body did almost any reasonable thing I asked it to do. For the moment, I creep around, prematurely old, but I'm working hard to get that strength back.
I turned 38 this month. I'm confident and outspoken, but life has buffed off some of the brash idiocy of my youth. I'm old enough to appreciate the physical manifestations of my youth, and so for the first time ever, I routinely like how I look, much more than I did when I was a 20-year-old sylph. I've come to see the traces of aging as a gift, not a burden.
Yeah, cobra!, I can drink only a wee bit these days. But hey! Two drinks and I'm giddy! It's fun! And frugal!
Yeah, cobra!, I can drink only a wee bit these days. But hey! Two drinks and I'm giddy! It's fun! And frugal!
That's the upside that I try to look at a lot. if I have a beer with dinner, I get my money's worth out of it...
To be honest, I really do enjoy being 32, hip pains or not. I often find myself wanting to travel back in time so that I can punch my 25-year-old self in the face for being such a smarmy wiseass; I think age has made me a lot less punchable.
Like I always do when I have a birthday coming up, I've been reflecting on age and immaturity. They both seem to increase at the same rate -- for me, anyway.
I've also had to start increasing the font size on pretty much every website, else I can't read the text. It's a touch depressing.
Yeah, I'm just joshin' about not wanting to get old. I have nothing to fear, apparently. My grandparents are all yet living, and my great-grandad kicked it by falling down the stairs and breaking his neck. But then he went to the pub. Where he ordered a pint. Which he had to use a straw to drink. Then he kicked off. Cool guy.
Pup: It could be your eyesight, or more likely could be that you're using a higher-resolution laptop screen that renders a given point size as physically smaller.
Your organs decline and your cognitive abilities are at their peak so you can keep track of every single dip in performance and ability. I have a birthday in a few weeks (yay Virgos!) and, like Miko, I swear I didn't feel half this good when I was 30.
I turned 41 earlier this month, and when I say it I feel like I'm lying (to make myself sound older). I feel good, for the most part (aches, pains, the usual - I pay attention to my body more). The best part is really liking myself at this age. I wish I had this kind of self confidence when I was younger. I can't believe my oldest child (that I gave birth to) is 14 and going in to high school. How can that be, when, I'm still only in my 20's?
I have Virgo rising and was NOT pleased to learn that...chupahija is one. The men are generally sweethearts though-- with one or two exceptions.
I'm 39 and still look like a naive cow--I had to replace my suitcase and a saleswoman cawed, "are you running away from home?" as I was wheeling it out of Macy's.
I've learned that regular exercise makes me feel better.
I love being 43 personally. I feel like I've just figured out how to actually live my life in the last few years. I'm definitely creakier than I was twenty years ago but I was so fucking clueless about everything when I was young that I'm sort of amazed that I managed to run my life at all.
I wish I had this kind of self confidence when I was younger.
Ain't that the truth? If only we could take our confidence and self-knowledge and do it all over again. Knowing what a difference that make sometimes makes me want to find ways to mentor teenage/college age girls. And just keep repeating to them: Be confident. You're fabulous. Be confident. You're fabulous. Until the belueve.
Honestly, if there's a single thing that delayed my development, it was this personal hesitation coming from the whispering voice "maybe I'm not good enough." Screw that! Wish I'd known to say "screw that" when I was 18.
But anyway, here we all are now, and today's what we got. Yee-ha.
I'm gonna shoot myself in the head the minute that smoking pot, pretty wimmin, and loud guitars are no longer interesting diversions. That said, I'm in better shape at 41 than I was at 21, even if I am a few pounds heavier: somehow I've made gradual healthy lifestyle changes (better diet, more exercise, fewer late nights) that weren't really planned, but sort of just evolved. I actually like myself now, and feel that I have nothing to prove to anyone, which is, really, Punk As Fuck. And my idea for the perfect death hasn't changed a bit: I wanna be walking down the street on a cool spring afternoon, eating a corned beef sandwich with lots of brown mustard, checking out a pretty girl's ass, and have a piano fall on my head. Of course, having written this, I'll prolly have a heart attack in my sleep tonight.
And AV, that sounds like an excellent plan, but I'm waiting until the comet hits on 12/21/2012 (Mayan calendar, y'all, respeck), at which time I will consume large quantities of powerful hallucinogens and spend my last few hours running around telling people what I REALLY thought about them.
Ain't that the truth? If only we could take our confidence and self-knowledge and do it all over again. Knowing what a difference that make sometimes makes me want to find ways to mentor teenage/college age girls.
If I had my current level of insight and confidence back when I was in college in 1992, my relationship with college girls would *not* have been characterized by *mentoring*. So, it's a good thing that I was socially deficient. I lost my lip virginity at age 24, I think.