Thoughts On Thirty // Ch 1. Have My Grown-Up Super Powers Finally Arrived?
A post from the Editor.
This is Holley. Holley is a singer/songwriter, a business owner, and, coincidentally, the Editor of this blog. (Hi.) Holley is turning thirty this February. (And apparently not taking it well, as she annoyingly continues to refer to herself in the third person.) She has a lot of thoughts about turning thirty, and she's going to share some of them with you now.
STATUS: 24 DAYS 'TIL 30
I'm the kind of person who loves the idea of personal growth challenges in theory, but loses her follow-through almost immediately. (Any INFJ's in the house?) I suck at diets. I loath pretty much all forms of exercise besides hot yoga, which I occasionally find myself enjoying but mostly just suffer through, because that's what adults do, right?
I don't know if it's because I've got this trip to Hawaii coming up (God help me and my rotund a**), or if it's just the New Year Effect, but I'm feeling pretty motivated this year. I've somehow harnessed my (deeply, deeply buried) inner stick-to-itiveness. It's like I've suddenly tripped over some willpower, which I've never actually seen with my own two eyes, and am looking around at strangers like, "Excuse me, sir, is this yours? Did you drop this?" Maybe by the time January's come and gone, I'll resume my usual position in the dirt waving good-bye to the bandwagon, but for now, I'm hanging on.
I just have this feeling like maybe this might actually be the time that I don't run face-first into a pizza and forget how tread mills work. I mean, of course I have my moments. Yesterday after brunch and a matinee of "My Fair Lady" with my fairest lady friend, Kristen, our afternoon champagne intake put me so close to my calorie limitation (I know, I hate me, too) that I figured, "ah, f*ck it," and ordered a small mountain of buffalo wings and tacos for dinner. But generally, I've been doing pretty okay. Which is not like me at all.
Maybe it's a sign that my grown-up super powers have finally arrived after about a decade of being lost in the mail. It would be nice to get to a place where regular exercise, balanced meals, and consuming less than an *entire* bottle of wine in one sitting doesn't feel like the most extraordinary of sacrifices. And, yes, there are more important things than eating the "right" amount of calories so that you can fit into the "right" pair of jeans. I plan on tackling a lot of important things this year. My waistline just happens to be the first thing on my list. Mainly because of, you know, the impending Bathing Suit Deadline.
Is this a side effect of 30-ness? Does it just "click" like that one day? I'm hoping that my newfound willpower means that this birthday has some kind of instantaneous transformation in store for me. A scheduled software update, if you will. A rare pixie dust that'll fall out of the air when the clock strikes midnight that'll Houdini (v: to effect with magic) me into the kind of person that pays her bills early, floats around her ideal weight like an effortless damn ballerina, and never forgets to take her birth control. Is that how it works?
Hmm? What's that? "It doesn't happen that way," you say? "HAHAHA," you say?