Yes, tomorrow, I turn 30. I’ve never really been bothered before about getting older; but as my 30th year has been approaching, it has actually been quite daunting. I check my eyes for wrinkles, and lament the fact i’m not considered a ‘girl’ anymore. I’m certainly not going to become one of those awful middle-aged women who refer to their equally middle-aged friends as ‘the girls’ (cringe!).
I also fill with joy everytime I tell someone how old I am and they say I don’t look it. I’ve actually become one of THOSE people who say ask people to guess how old they think I am, just so I can bask in said joy.
One thing that does please me about getting older is the continued development of wisdom. I often want to slap young girls about the face just to try and drum some sense into them, and stop their useless worrying. I wish at 16 that I had known what I know now.
- See those girls that are super-cool and gorgeous in school? That’s their moment of glory. It doesn’t last long. They go on to become just another female in a sea of millions, with an average job and an average life. You- the slightly unpopular and chubby one- haven’t had your time yet. It will come after school (when it matters) and you’ll have an amazing life that ‘the populars’ would be jealous of.
-Bad at Maths? Failed at Higher Maths and didn’t even do well enough to get awarded an Intermediate 2? (Ahem, yes me). It doesn’t matter. Just buy a calculator- you never EVER use any of the sin cos tan etc etc nonsense you learn anyway. Just don’t tell your Mum I told you.
-Don’t waste thousands going to art school like some of my school peers did with dreams of being the next Monica Vinader, Alex Monroe or worse, Tracey Emin. You’ll never manage to make a career out of it- you’ll end up selling phones in Carphone Warehouse or as an art teacher. The saying ‘those who can’t do, teach’ exists for a reason.
-School report cards, punishment exercises and warnings of ‘this will be a permanent mark on your report’ don’t matter either. In 6th year, it’s your school report; next year, it’s chip paper. Counts for nothing. I was a good girl because I wanted to be; but if your report contains some mischief, just deal with the hassle from your parents as after that, nobody cares anymore.
-I’m sorry if this comes as a shock; but you aren’t going to marry him/her, and even if by some miracle (or moment of stupidity) you do, you’ll be divorced in a few years. The love of your life at school, is not the love of your life. You still have a lot of growing up and person-shaping to do which will change you and what you want completely. So what if he kissed her from class 5b behind your back? Just kick him to the kerb and eat a pizza.