And I’m not doing very well with accepting that.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I am terrified of turning 30 this July. I don’t know why, but the thought of turning 30 literally makes me sick to my stomach. Because of this, I have convinced my 4 year old that I am 25, and will be turning 25 again on my birthday. My dear, sweet son will fight tooth and nail whenever Gene or Ashley tries to tell him that I will be 30. I just love my son.
But, my age is taking its toll on me. I threw my back out yesterday, and I’m still trying to recover from it. I had been sitting on the floor making bows for a bow swap that I’m in, and when I tried to get up, I could barely move. Everytime I moved, it brought me to tears. I called the doctor, and guess what? There’s nothing you can do when you’re pregnant. I can’t go see a Chiropractor. I can’t get x-rayed. So, I got the “put ice then heat on it” and gave a sarcastic “thank you very much” in response.
I know that it’s just because I’m pregnant (again), and my joints are limber, but am I really going to have to suffer for the next 6 months? Is this really what it feels like to get old?
My husband is 3 years younger than me. (Jerk) He teases me relentlessly about this being what he has to look forward to when he gets old. I know he’s just kidding, but, man, does it tick me off. I don’t think he understands how badly this is affecting me. To him, age is just a number. No big deal. I’d love to see it like that, but I know when I see my cake with a big 3-0 on it, I’m going to lose it.
They say that we’re only as old as we feel. Today I feel about 85, so turning 30 should be no big deal, right? I wish!
Someone please tell me 30 isn’t that bad. Please!