Tomorrow is my 30th
birthday, and contrary to popular belief/ perception, I ain't freakin'
out.
Well, I have heard and
read so much about the 30-year-glitch striking a woman like lightning and
changing her life and the way she thinks forever. No truly, a lot of noise has
been made about the 30th birthday, especially when it happens to be of a happily
single woman. Volumes have been written, movies have been made and blogs have
been penned (with as much as 2-post contribution from Yours Truly as
well).
But frankly speaking, I
still am what I have been for the past 15 years - a 15-year-old teeny bopper.
Yes, the beautician might love to refute my claim with her pointedly critical
analysis of the fine lines and baby (as in lil) wrinkles sprouting on the
visage but I will not believe her unless I can see the alleged wrinkling with
my own two naked eyes and for that, there is enough time.
Coming back to being 15!
Yes, I feel very much like a teenager. In fact, I feel almost like a
10-year-old, who loves to shout and scream and throw tantrums if her mum does
not give her a hug first thing in morning or if her dad leave house without
bidding her goodbye with a promise to come in the evening loaded with
chocolates and ice-creams.
I am still like that li'l
school girl who can't handle more than 1,000 bucks in her wallet without
experiencing a strong urge to peep in every now and then to make sure the money
is safe. My favourite tee is still my most prized possession and I still love
hanging out in a zoo on any and every weekend, looking for hours in sheer
amazement at the monkeys, lions, tigers, rabbits, deers, zebras, bears,
elephants, rhinoceros and hippopotamus, ducks, pelicans, colourful birds,
peacocks and hyenas. And how much I love being clicked with these beautiful
marvels of nature needs no explanation as none of my albums is complete without
them.
I still love to pick up
small little arguments and fights with my elder sis over trivial matters but
somehow get highly disappointed and irritated when she, now a married woman,
behaves like a grown up, not inclined to fight with her only, younger sibling.
I still get all freaky and panicky if my bestest buddies show any signs of
forgetting me or going away forever. For me, an outstation journey still means
a trip with my parents, the packing for which is always done by mum.
I mean, if someone could
get inside my head he’d see I’m really not more than 15 years old. My mood
swings are totally dependent on the food I eat. My priorities are Mommy and
Papa. My favourite TV show is still Tom & Jerry. My favourite books are
Archies comics. I still fall in head over heels in love with a guy who is
amazingly hot. And get butterflies in my tummy if the same guy as much as looks
at me more than once. And get shivers if he tries to strike a
conversation.
And, as if the nature is
in a sort of agreement with me, I still get those horrible pimples on my cheeks
which make my miserable beyond words. And these zits appear right before I have
to attend a birthday party or a wedding in the family.
But unfortunately, apart
from just wrinkles (about which I do not care), the years bring along
responsibility, expectations, codes of conduct of social behaviour, which force
one to be one's age even though the heart says otherwise.
And despite social
restrictions and codes of conduct, which twirl their noses at the mere thought
of turning 30, I am absolutely nonchalant about it. Because, as they say, age
is just a state of mind and in my case, it is more than 100% true.
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