As I approach the big 3-5, I can’t help but share my birthday wishlist—because what better way to embrace the joys of being uncool in your mid-30s? Here’s what I sent to my husband and daughter:
- scented candles (yes, I even hunted down a coupon for my husband)
- a couple of pairs of comfy moccasins
- fuzzy slipper booties
- a gift card for books (always a winner)
- a gift card for new undies at Lane Bryant (hello, comfort!)
- something pop culture-inspired, like a pin or a cute card with a funny quote to frame.
Just to clarify, while I genuinely want all these items, it’s more of a buffet-style wishlist—my husband and daughter get to pick one or two to surprise me with. And let’s not forget that we’re planning a cozy getaway to a “cabin in the woods” complete with a fireplace, where dinner reservations are a must.
Now that I’ve laid this out to an actual human instead of just keeping it in my head, it’s safe to say that I’m probably typing this from a state of sheer ennui. I mean, I’ve succumbed to the excitement of my own life.
On top of the thrill of my wishlist and a picturesque weekend, I also have a chin hair situation, undies that could be classified as “granny,” and a persistent case of foot fungus—plus, I often feel like I might not wake up the next morning. What a blast it is to be in your 30s!
But honestly, this stage of life is a riot. I have the glorious freedom to be uncool, and I’m totally here for it. I’ve always been a fan of granny panties, books are my jam, and if lounging were an Olympic sport, I’d be a gold medalist. Candles are my new cats, and I added that cute little card to my list just to seem more youthful—because who doesn’t want to appear 35 instead of 82?
Not long ago, I found myself at a bar with a dance floor, and a staff member called me “ma’am.” Instead of feeling offended, I decided to hit the dance floor and show the young folks how it’s done. I even started a sentence with “Back in my day” and candidly admitted, “my hands weren’t on the floor with my butt in the air.”
Let’s be clear—I reserve my judgment for those who love me, despite my quirks. I wasn’t annoyed because of my inner contradictions, but more so by the two people hogging the dance floor during Beyoncé’s “Run the World (Girls).”
In the end, I had a blast. The beauty of being in your mid-30s is the realization that I don’t need to impress anyone anymore. I have a pair of sweatpants with a hole in the crotch calling my name, and a partner who embraces my quirks. Plus, my daughter is old enough to bring me snacks when I’m deep in couch potato mode, even if she rolls her eyes at me.
In my younger days, I would have been horrified if anyone discovered my affinity for granny panties. Now, I’d proudly wave a pair from the roof! The biggest myth is that granny panties lead to a lonely life—I’d even want that carved on my tombstone. And let’s not forget my comfy sweatpants that inspire me; if only I had that level of dedication for anything else!
So bring it on, 35 and beyond. This year, I’m asking for laser hair removal for Christmas, and I can’t wait.
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In summary, turning 35 means embracing the beauty of being uncool, relishing in comfort, and enjoying life without the pressure to impress anyone.