#GirlAbout30 : I think I might be ready now, and…



If there’s one thing I can truthfully confess about my life, it’s that I was never ready for anything that ever happened in my life! I have had some good years and some difficult years. I realize that the years that were trickiest were the ones that I celebrated an odd number birthday. Take for instance when I was 7. I wasn’t ready to be that child raised by a single parent as death just decided to snatch our dad from us. Damn that tragic road accident!

When I was 9, I wasn’t ready to let go of my long hair. My scalp was poorly and I had sores all over which came about from not eating enough fruits and vegetables. To get better, the mane had to face the scissors and I had to accept that for a while I would look like a boy. People even asked my siblings all the time where the little boy came from and if they had been hiding a random brother all those years.

I wasn’t ready for age 11 when somebody somewhere saw it fit to complicate life some more by introducing Algebra in Mathematics. I hadn’t been paying attention in class when the topic was introduced (because I was still very much confused by the fact that I looked like a boy) and by the time I realized it, I was flanking Math mercilessly. It’s not that Algebra was hard; it’s just that I didn’t pay attention to it and things got quite overwhelming by the time I realized I was sinking low!
Certainly I was also not ready for boobs…and hips! Ugh! I was totally tempted to chop off the two small mounds from my chest after that perverted shopkeeper guy said he liked me better than my friend because I appeared more developed physically! This should explain my sort of “hunchback of Notre Dame-esque” posture which I resorted to after learning that if I chopped off the boobies with a razor blade I would bleed….to my DEATH!

For sure I wasn’t ready for 13 when I noticed that my heart beat differently every time I saw that boy. Oh that boy! That Trevor Jackson lookalike boy. I wasn’t ready for the butterflies in my tummy each time I saw him. Each time he passed by us-a group of girls who lined up just to drool over him- biting his lower lip as he winked and smiled at me coyly like he never did with the rest.I wasn’t ready for the several hours a day I spent thinking about him and smiling sheepishly to myself and knowing that I was too scared to even talk to him. Didn’t someone, somewhere mention that if you as much as looked at a boy in the eye you would get pregnant and… die? I sure wasn’t ready to die at 13. Nope! I was also not ready for the heartbreak I suffered when my Trevor moved cities without saying goodbye. I felt my heart crash to smithereens. There was this magic about that boy, I mean how is it that I looked him in the eye and I didn’t die? That must have been magic, right? Because how else would you explain it?

Oh how I certainly was not ready for those godawful painful monthly periods! Yes, I had heard of them but I wasn’t ready to experience them at least not until after High school. I had been told about them since I was 9 or 10 but still I expected them to hold off at least until I was 19 or 30…not 13! Ugh!

I wasn’t ready to see my “boyfriend” hold hands with my bestfriend (some bestfriend she was!) behind my back literally! I was seated between them and I could feel them doing something behind my back and when I turned to check what was happening and saw what they were doing, that was it for me! I’m glad to report that the two idiots didn’t even last three weeks together. I wasn’t ready for that kind of deception though.

At 15 I wasn’t ready for that very confusing 9.5 seconds that saw a boy decide to plant a wet one on my lips! He just landed on my lips! One minute I’m explaining something and the next I’m struggling to breathe for there, very close to my face was another face, hands on my neck and lips on my lips! Gah! I was not READY dammit!!

I am currently enjoying my 30 and although I still have a couple more months to go I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to be 31 and so I have decided that I will be 30 for another year. 32 I don’t mind, so next year I will turn 32 from 30 (Smart plan huh!). 33 I will accept as well , because there’s just some symmetry about it. Two threes don’t look so bad together and who wouldn’t welcome some balance in their age? Besides my birth date happens to be 08/08.



I was never ready for any of those events that happened in my formative years…whether, good, bad or ugly but that has since changed as I’m now a mature adult. This should explain why I carry almost a fully furnished two bedroom house in my purse-which I won’t lie weighs just about the same as me. I try my best to be ready at all times. In my purse you will find food, you will find band aids, books and pens, full manicure sets, other small purses, lotions and notepads and this is the point where I would like to put a disclaimer about the possibility of seeing a tent peeking through that very purse.

I find myself buying books for my future little ones because I’m afraid that I won’t find the same books when the time comes–never mind that I haven’t even thought of bringing children into the world yet-and I have found myself a couple of times wondering if my apartment would make a conducive environment for a little one. I also find myself showing up early or right on time for dates and meetings which was never the case before because you know what? I think I might be ready, and… I don’t like it! I don’t like being ready, I don’t like keeping track of everything because it means losing a bit of myself. Being ready means planning for everything down to a Tee and losing the spontaneity. It means over-thinking and missing out on the fun and the surprises that make up epic memories.

I kind of anticipate the things that will happen as a result of something else which sucks all the fun out of life. I anticipate heartbreaks, I anticipate disappointments beforehand and I almost always anticipate the curves and the bumps on the road instead of just taking them head on because I am all too aware of everything now. I have to plan for every single thing that happens in my life which kind of stinks. I almost cannot just meet someone and not analyze them and I expect them to possess certain qualities failure to which my phone forces me to lose their number. This sucks the realness out of emotions and I don’t like it!

“You seem so organized and prepared for the future” remarked a friend of mine recently. That frightened me quite because I knew that that meant that I have lost part of myself. The carefree, pure and original versions of myself. I liked it better back then when life just happened. When if the boy you liked, liked your friend better, you didn’t even cry about it, instead you planned to egg his bedroom window and his dad’s car at night and then let it pass without harboring any hard feelings. It’s very different from present times when your first instinct would be to destroy the two of them and make them SUFFER the consequences!

I’m an adult now, and I am ready and I don’t like it but I have to deal with it! Sigh! #GirlAbout30 problems…

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