My End or Yours?

We know it’s been way too long since we had a good, spirited debate. So without further ado…

Question: Is getting older a curse or a blessing?

Jen of All Trades: Blessing

Boop and I are very close sisters, as one can clearly see from reading this blog. What may not be so well known is that our birthdays are three days apart. Boop is exactly two years and three days older than I. As children, this was a curse because we had to share birthday parties and even shared gifts on far too many occasions. Lucky for us we were so close in age that we were usually into the same things. Now that we are (much) older we actually really enjoy having our birthdays so close together. It’s quite convenient to not only have one birthday lunch (Boop is city, I am ‘burbs and getting together through summer construction in Chicago can be quite the challenge) but we very much enjoy having a partner in the birthday-diva spotlight. I suppose it’s even more fun to share in the thrill of being the center of attention. Well, I guess that only works when you don't want to claw the other girl's eyes out. Lucky for Boop, I trim mine before seeing her. But I digress...

There is one thing re: the birthday issue that we seem to have differing opinions on. Is getting older awesome or is it so TIRED that it needs to take a big ol' nap?

A few months ago I had my mind made up. Turning 30 was going to be great for me. I was quickly getting into the best shape of my life. I may not have been my skinniest, but really it’s not so cute to have a 17 year-old body at 30 is it? But then this happened. I thought it was the beginning of the end. Until I met super-therapist Abbey and she forever changed my life and put me back on track to be the most fit momma evah! I am so strong now and it just keeps getting better. With my mindset changed once again for the better, I started thinking about my increasing age and how great it can be if I keep my attitude positive.

I am most likely done having kids now and have been young and able enough to fully enjoy them. And to have relatively easy pregnancies. I am also going to be young and able enough to enjoy "me time" now that my girls are getting older and more independent. I recently took up the hobby of dessert making/decorating and really feel like I have the time to really dive into it. Before, not so much. My career is going AMAZING (knock on wood) and I have a solid marriage and everything truly smells like roses for me. Of course there are things I certainly wouldn't mind being just a little bit better, but I am quite content with what I have and where I'm going. That being said, how could I get down about a silly little number? Its not as if I'll go to bed on August 10 fine and dandy and wake up on the 11th with wrinkles, gray hair and a walker with tennis balls at the end of the legs. I have a lot to be proud of in my life. If I made it this far in 30 years, how much further can I go in the next 30? God willing, I'll have the chance to find out.


Becky Boop: Curse

I am so conflicted about this question, and if you ask me tomorrow, I may very well have a different answer. In fact I began my day with a sharp FaceBook exchange with Jen over my intentions to get Botoxed one day soon, so as you can see, this is not a topic I only began to consider with this post.

Intuitively, I am aware that I should embrace aging gracefully. My personal life satisfaction is at an all-time high. I am thrilled with the progression of my career, both in my day work as well as a blossoming freelance vocation. Almost two years ago, at the age of 30, I was overpaid and miserable, watching time slip away in corporate hell as I only wished to strike out as a writer. In the ensuing time, I have gathered some wonderful bylines and clips, with a couple local and national journalism awards to boot. The sense of drifting that kept me awake in my 20s is long gone and I feel more focused on my goals than ever.

I am physically strong and in the best shape of my life, and I am proud of this fact. I am, in short, doing as well as I could ever have hoped in my early to mid 30s. I will not spend my latter years riddled with regrets and “what ifs?” about this decade. That may be all I have the right to ask out of life.

And yet….what I think is so terrible about the aging process is not the wrinkles, sudden and random aches and pains, or even the lost ability to booze it up two nights in a row without a long period of recovery. This comes with the territory and I can accept the changes with grace. What I do find unendurable is the notion that I have already peaked. I will never be better looking, smarter, or full of more potential than I either am, or have been. There is something terribly frightening about this, especially as I confront the knowledge that I basically wasted the years between 18 and 27. I was overweight, reckless, immature, unfulfilled and directionless.

An older and wiser Boop longs for those years of missed opportunity back, but knows this is impossible. Control freak that I am though, I find this hard to live with. Thus each year I find myself farther removed from lost prospect, I somehow feel more depressed. Hard as I have worked, what if I had switched my major to journalism as a undergrad, taken an internship? Would I be writing for The New York Times or Rolling Stone by now? Maybe not, but who’s to say? It’s the unknowable, past and future, that sets my teeth on edge. I wish I had the peace of mind of Jen, but I just don’t.