Last summer a viral parody of T-Swift’s 22 went around that was the perfect reflection of being an unmarried lady in her 30s. It was funny, sad and perfect all at once. They captured the reality of how drinking a glass of wine now makes us tired, and how our facebook is a showcase of pictures of engagements, weddings and then babies. Lots and lots of babies. I’d show you the video, but it’s been removed by YouTube.
Anyway, I was having lunch with a colleague today and we were discussing the conundrums of being 32. And on many issues, she and I were completely on the same page.
To start, it’s not like 32 is a bad age. It’s a great age. For many of us, life starts to fall together at the start of our 30s. You start to make more money, feel more secure emotionally and financially, and you genuinely start to not care about what anyone thinks of you. All great things. But, on the other hand, there are realities about our age and our bodies that we will have to face…and soon. Tick tick tick goes the clock.
The worst part is that I still feel like I’m a child. And when I say child, I mean in my 20’s. Other than the fact that when it’s midnight I celebrate bedtime rather than drunk time, a party for me is a nice dinner party or late night at a restaurant, weight just doesn’t drop off when I want it to, I’m tired – all the time, dad jokes become funnier every day, two glasses of wine gets me drunk, and everyone I know is pregnant, has a baby or is talking about having a baby. Otherwise, I genuinely feel too young to have to face the fertility clock. So, why can’t I have 7 more blissful childless and child-free-thinking years?
You see, when you’re 28 you have 7 years before you need to seriously make the dreaded (for me at least) baby decision. And in those 7 years, you could elect to make the baby choice at any point (provided no health issues). But, when you’re 32, 4 of those decision free years are gone, and you only have 3 short years to decide if you’re going to attempt to hop on the baby train. Yes…you could wait longer. You can have babies into your 40’s however, 35 is safer due to the whole egg situation in our good ol’ovaries.
What I wish, is that I could somehow be the person I am now, but 4 years ago when I was 28. When I was 28, I didn’t have to think about my ovaries and how my egg factory is slowing down production. But now, with every passing day, I’m constantly reminded that my clock will eventually stop, and that soon, it will get to the point where I will have to make the decision (health pending that is) as to whether or not I will bless the world with a Mini Jen Talks Too Much or not.
My biggest 32 issue that I have is that I don’t even know if I want rug-rats and I wish I had more time to figure it out. I still need time to write my book, get a TV show, tour the world (or at least Europe) and have time to myself and my grumplestein (Mr. Opposite). Time. Isn’t it the worst? What’s that all about? In an ideal alternate world, I’d be 28 in love and living with Mr. O, and still have 7 years before I’d have to start to thinking about getting off the damn baby pot or staying on it or whatever the right saying is. But now because I’m 32…I have 3 years. THREE YEARS!!! And, 3 years is not a long time. Nope. It’s a short period of time. Almost the shortest time ever. The worst part is that time goes by faster every year, so really 3 years, is more like 2.75 years. And I can’t deal with that.
What scares me is that I could stay on the baby fence for so long that by the time I try to jump off of it, all the babies will have been taken. The damn cabbage patch will be completely harvested. But at the same time, having a baby seems like something I don’t even know if I want. God, but what if I do? But what if I don’t? I really like sleeping in, going to restaurants (all the time), and having zero responsibility. I’m good at that. Great at it actually. But babies love and are cute and are so many important things that this discussion makes me want to vomit.
God damn 32. I wasn’t ready for you.