Whoever said that a girl is at the prime of her life at the age of 30 must have been drunk! At the age of 27 I’m already growing tired of that big cloud on top of my head; not cloud number 9 (Bryan Adams’ song – God bless his soul), but one which spits the first white hairs and wrinkles. And I’m definitely not loving it!
So ok, it’s inevitable. But the rapid rise in exhaustion and memory loss is starting to get me concerned, making me one nervous bunny. My squeaky knees are not helping matters and at times it feels that whatever is not hurting is not working!
Last time I was chatting to my niece and her friends, and found myself ending each sentence with phrases like “those were the times” and ''are you sure you don't recall that episode? you were probably not born yet then''!!! And after that, you can’t really blame me for panicking, can you?
I try to convince myself that it’s just a phase and that the 1am yawning at the party of the year was a one-time-episode which will not happen again. And yet I still keep looking forward to nights in. During such ‘occasions’ I only panic when the company of that rented dvd, the already-opened bottle of wine and Frida (my cat) feel like a claustrophobic crowd.
At the age of 30 a girl is at the prime of her life. Yeah right!!
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