I am 29 now, which simply means I only have a year left before turning 30. That’s pretty exciting. Imagine being a 30-year-old woman who isn’t married and does not have a child yet. Oh, what a big “fuck you” to everyone who still believes that a woman’s most important role in this world is that of a wife and a mother and that she has to take it upon reaching a certain age.
Seriously, I am looking forward to turning 30. Perhaps, by the time I reach that age, more people would take me seriously. When you’re twenty-something, a lot of people still see you as a kid, even though you’re obviously wiser and more mature than they are. Maybe, when I tell them I am already thirty fucking years old, they’d be more receptive to my ideas. Maybe they would be nicer to me as well.
But I know it would also be tough. I’m sure that no matter how proud I’d be for defying society’s expectations at 30, there would still be a lot of comments on my chosen way of life. I’m certain that there would still be unsolicited pieces of advice on I should live. I don’t think they will ever stop. No, never, especially in this world where everybody has a say on a woman’s life except the woman herself. What do we expect in a world where women’s bodies are everyone’s business except their own, right?
Good thing, I am ready. I am ready for more inappropriate comments disguised as messages of concern. I am ready for unsolicited pieces of advice from people who clearly have no concept of boundaries. I am ready for criticisms and mean comments, as well as those orders on how I should live my life. Most importantly, I am so fucking ready for all the mommyjackers who think that just because motherhood has worked so well for them, everybody who has a uterus should give it a go, too, ASAP.
And, of course, I am ready to rage more. At 29, I have already mastered the art of not giving a fuck, thinking that fucks should be given only when really needed. Like in situations involving things I feel strongly about. At this point, it’s become clearer to me that one of the things I truly care about in life is valuing my own decisions and not letting anyone else dictate things to me. Anyone who tries to discredit my opinions on what I should do with my body and how I should live my life deserves an ample amount of anger—the type of anger which for years I’ve been saving for assholes who are convinced that they have the right to comment on things that are none of their business. I am so fucking ready to hate them more.
Being a woman is hard, regardless of age. However, I know I’ll have bigger battles to face when I turn 30. I’m excited. But of course, I have to wait another year. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy being 29. It may be a year short of 30, but it does not mean I won’t be brave and angry.
Banner photo from Canva