My Thirties Have Turned Into a Black Hole
Thirty was supposed to be a big year. My dad said it was going to be and I, of course, believed him. He's my dad after all. I couldn't wait to feel like a woman and feel like I was exactly where I wanted to be in life--finally. But here I am. Thirty came and went. Another year passed. Then another. And guess what? I do feel like a woman now. And that's exactly what I'm complaining about.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying I'm not happy. My husband loves me, I have a mortgage, my job is great and I'm actually about 10 pounds lighter than I was in my mid-to-late twenties. The problem is: I will never be satisfied. Yup. That's it. In a nutshell. It's been pointed out to me before, mostly by boyfriends--or more like my main boyfriend of my twenties, and now my husband. It seems every time I accomplish something, I want more. Bring me another jug of water because I can't seem to quench my thirst.
And now that I'm a "woman," I feel like I have to hurry up and get where I want to be. So what do I want to be? What do I want to do? It just doesn't stop. I exhaust myself. And now I know I will be this way for the rest of my life. I'm the cause of my wrinkles, my stress and my sleepless nights. Luckily my career provides me with plenty of anti-aging serums...