I’m officially old. Well, not really. But I am closer to 30 than 25, which used to make me shudder but 30 now seems like a warm shawl in front of a fireplace; comforting and chill. And with my progressed age has obviously come wisdom, but also something else that seems to tally with how many years one has lived: things that you don’t and do give AF about. As we age, darlings. there are some things we straight up stop caring about, swapping them for some new cares. Here are some of my own.
What I Don’t Give AF About Now That I’m In My Late 20’s
A year ago, I did care. But over that year, I went from mid to my late twenties. I’ll go into Starbucks and order three Pumpkin Spice Lattes one right after the other, and flounce around in my flannel and boots. Thank goodness Starbucks released PSLs early this year.
The Intensity Of My Eccentricity
I used to keep a fairly snug lid on my endearing oddities when it came to interacting with strangers and mere acquaintances. But damn the appropriate and expected social mannerisms, as I’ve seen enough years and memes to know that we’re all more than a little bit outlandish and awkward. If I tell you your skirt makes you look like a hot mama, I’m not flirting with you. Promise. I just really am that eccentric.
Wearing A Sports Bra. Or No Bra.
And not as a feminist statement, or because I want that nipple showing. But because (a) I’m too lazy to put a bra on; or (b) I’m going out in the sweater I put on that morning when rolling out of bed; or (c) I’ve realized my boobs aren’t going to be perky forever, so what’s the point in pretending otherwise.
Picking A Wedgie In Public
Yes, I try to do it discreetly. It’ll be another 40 years until I reach that level of no f*cks given. But I no longer will only do it in the car or in a bathroom stall. Standing in line? Sure. Casually waiting at a crosswalk? Yep. I’m assuming I do it endearingly dainty, but who knows. Maybe I do look like a Swamp Witch who came out to play in the city, and forgot all social constructs. Do I give AF? Not know that I’m an elder 20-something.
Being Picky AF While Ordering At A Restaurant
I’m not yet at Meg Ryan’s level of accomplished orderer from “When Harry Met Sally.” But I have developed a certain I don’t give AF attitude when it comes to ordering. I ask for no ice in my water. If my meal comes with meat, I ask for it on the side (it’s actually so my husband can eat it, since I’m a vegetarian. So I’m really actually very considerate). I used to think people like this were obnoxious. Maybe they still are. But frankly darling, nowadays, I just don’t give a damn.
What I Do Give AF About Now That I’m In My Late 20’s:
Tweezing With Religious Regularity
My eyebrows and those sneaky dark hairs that like to pop out with the consistency of a whack-a-mole on the left hand corner of my mouth. Always the left side. Bastards.
The Amount Of Bumper Stickers On My Car
There was a time when I wanted to plaster my car with stickers and magnets that proclaimed my political leanings, fandoms I love, and hobbies I adore. Twenty such stickers didn’t seem too many. Now, I’m wary. My car still has magnets on it, but they are few, and were curated with thoughtful, mature care.
My Skin Care Retinue
Over the last few years, I’ve taken some serious note of people whose skin condition has aged them up an apparent hundred years. Insert wake up call, as I’m no longer blessed with care-free skin that glows like a pregnant woman with the texture of a baby bottom. I take my coconut, cocoa and aegean oils seriously, and have even deigned to routinely apply sunscreen, because who wants wrinkles. I am of course fully stocked with exfoliation scrubs, facial masks, and those towelettes. Twenty-two year old me would have never thought of cleaning her face before and after sleeping with the disturbing regularity of Trump checking his Twitter account.
How Much Water I Drink In A Day. And How Many Veggies I Eat.
I’m not one of those hydration sticklers who carries around a gallon of water with them. But I have become more aware of the actual amount of water that I consume. Apparently drinking the daily recommended amount (or even a bit more) of water is good for you. Which I always knew, but now that my mortality is more of a sure thing, I’m making more of an effort. Same with my greens: I recently realized that I eat a lot – and I mean a whole lot – of fruit. But scarcely any vegetables. So, with my health in mind and being a responsible late 20-something, I now habitually buy spinach and romaine lettuce.
The Neighbor Partying Past 11 PM
I don’t care what day of the week it is. That’s right, even Friday and Saturday nights. If I can hear you and your friends playing beer pong, strumming on your guitar, or having philosophizing conversations that no one has ever had before, I don’t care what day of the damn week it is, I’m vehemently thinking of calling the cops. I’m two steps away from stepping outside and angrily shaking my fist at you. I need my sleep. So start partying at 6:00, and put it to bed by 10:00.
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