When I was in in my teens, I remember talking about my 30s as this far off distant place where life gets real.
I saw it as this ridiculous measurement of life where certain chapters had to be completed…because that’s just what was expected.
There would still be fun and adventure of course, just a more refined version.
I believed by my 30s I would have everything together — my career, my home, a husband, and I would be shuttling a couple of kids back and forth from their soccer practices and music lessons.
I would have mastered the art of painting, the guitar (found out my fingers are too small to reach the dang frets), and I would own more than one pair of fancy shoes (because I would be attending all these ridiculously lavish events — think NYE functions every weekend).
You would find me hosting elaborate parties for friends and family, complete with food that I had prepared (and people couldn't stop talking about), delicious wine, and everyone would be enjoying hours and hours of activities like charades or karaoke.
Naturally I would be in the best shape of my life because of all the yoga and fitness classes I would be taking, and I would be the poster child for a healthy living for my children.
Since I’ve been in my 30s for quite some time now, I definitely find myself going through my mental checklists now and then.
There are a lot more question and exclamation marks on that list than I imagined in my teens, and probably a few doodles of unicorns in the margins, but it’s not a completely incomplete checklist.
I have my health, and I think that probably SHOULD have been on the list.
I have my babies, and they are growing into extraordinary human beings who will eventually take on the world, whatever that might look like in 10, 20, 30 years from now.
I don’t have a house, and I completely blame not winning the Y Dream Home Lottery for that one, but I have a really great job.
As far as fitness, that area could use a little massaging.
Yesterday I went to my first exercise class in years. Not only did I feel completely distracted wearing a T-shirt that continuously wanted to ride up every time I moved, I felt pain in places I haven’t felt in quite some time.
I looked around trying to gauge how bad I was compared to everyone else.
I realize now I’m probably not going to be a fitness fanatic in my 30s. I’ll settle for pleasantly mediocre — for now.
Fall is an interesting time, because even though technically the year is three quarters over, it’s a beginning for so many things and it’s hard not to start thinking about the rest of your life.
My younger self was a little bit off on where my 30ish-year-old-self would find herself now, but you have to start somewhere, and there are no hard and fast rules on what dictates success.
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