Age of the Beholder

A friend of mine generously passes along her magazines to me. This bunch included Glamour (which she assured me she got by accident).

Anyway, this is the first time I’ve even glanced at a Glamour since college and I have to say that the scenery looks pretty different these days. I’m so uncool now that I don’t even think most of the outfits in Glamour are cute.

I’m not shocked by my lack of style, but I was taken aback by the age of a few of the “real life” ladies featured in the magazine. For instance, 30 year old Anne was photographed at a music festival wearing shorts so short that the pockets showed. (I thought it was telling that the women’s ages were even included along with their photos.)

I’m 31. I can’t really remember the last time I went to a music festival. I have however made quite a splash at the merry-go-round of four year old birthday parties this year.

It’s just interesting to see how different my reality is from the lives of these women. I’m not trying to say that one is better than the other. The pages of Glamour are exist in a parallel universe from the one I live in.

Anyway despite our differences, Glamour and I were having a pretty good time right until I came to a page that said this in giant font – “At 16 you can drive. At 18 you can vote. At 21 you can drink. At 25 you hit your quarter-life crisis. And then comes 30, when you suddenly irrevocably transform into…and Old Person. Right? Wrong”

Any magazine that feels the need to reassure me that 30 isn’t really old, can’t be my friend.

At first I was kind of pissed, but then I realized that I’m the one out of line here. I really have no business judging Glamour by my “old” standards (or reading it for that matter). I am clearly not their demographic. If I’m being really honest, I’m pretty sure my 20 year old self would judge my minivan lifestyle harshly so I shouldn't hold a fear of turning 30  against the current crop of 20 somethings.

But as somebody who has had a 30th birthday and survived, I just wish younger people knew that getting older has some awesome fringe benefits.

Most of us quit worrying so much what others think, which is so very liberating. You’ll likely discover the joys of classic style and quit wasting time and money on trends. You aren’t wasting energy figuring out what you want to be when you grow up – because you ALREADY are grown up.

There is beauty in leaving beyond the uncertainties of youth and finally figuring out who you really want to be.

So maybe my ass isn’t what it once was.  I wouldn’t trade the confidence of my 30s for the body of my 20s.

(Sorry Glamour – but we still can’t be friends. We aren’t good for each other.)