Hypothetically Speaking . . .

. . . . . . . . Because Humor Matters

30’s The New 80

Written By: Michael Rochelle - Sep• 05•09

As I embark on my last few weeks of being in my 20s, I’m beginning to ponder how well I’ll transition into my new status as a senior citizen. Of course, I’m looking forward to the discounted coffees and being offered a seat on a crowded bus because I’ll be elderly, but what about all the rumors regarding how “life is all downhill after 30”? As they say, “youth is fleeting,” and at this point, youth has definitely fleeted. Yes, my friends, my youth has officially left the building. You know how I know? Well, I used to be able to drop it like it’s hot, but now I can barely lower it like it’s tepid. And when I hear the sound of something snapping, it’s usually not my fingers to the latest Britney Spear’s song, but instead it’s my brittle bones crying out in agony because I’ve gotten up too fast and forgotten to use some oil sheen or WD-40 on my joints. In addition, I’ve begun saying things like “back in the day,” and “when I was young,” and “Anything after 7 is past my bedtime.” So, maybe it’s not such a bad idea for me to begin pricing wheel chairs and medical alert bracelets. Heaven forbid I fall and can’t get up.

All my life, 30 has been the age people have warned me about. No one says anything about turning 40, 50, or 60. Allegedly, at 30 your metabolism completely shuts down and retires to France. I’ve already been advised to be alone in the privacy of my own home because you can actually hear it cutting off at the stroke of midnight on your birthday. I guess the burgers and fries that I’ve gotten so accustomed to eating on a regular basis will soon be replaced by raisins and Metamucil. Just imagine all the fast-food restaurants that will go out of business due to my entering my fourth decade of life. And instead of me giving out words of wisdom and encouragement on my blog, it will be my back and my knee that give out. Oh the humanity!

Once I reach that milestone, I expect that people’s perceptions of me will change. As opposed to my being labeled “cool” when I walk across campus with my Hello Kitty lunch box, I’ll be called “immature.” People will then probably expect me to have life all figured out and to be full of wisdom instead of bumbling around the way I do now and getting all spacey when I see something shiny. As opposed to waking up each morning with my body fully intact, I’ll have to spend the first fifteen minutes trying to locate my pecs and abs. As it is now, I can already tuck my left chin into my pants and hold it in place securely with my belt. I’m sure that will just get worse as time moves along. And I’m also quite sure that no one will appreciate my mother riding me around the grocery store in a shopping cart anymore once I hit 30. Nope, I’m pretty sure the cut off for that sort of thing is 29.

Now, far be it from me to be a downer, but when you think about it, if I live to reach 90, I’ve already lived 1/3 of my life. However, if I only live to see 60, then I’ve lived half my life. HALF!!! It’s instances like this that remind me why I never liked fractions in the first place. On the other hand, though my being over the hill may mean that I won’t be able to star in the next installment of High School Musical, maybe I could land a starring role on Desperate Housewives. Move over Eva. There’s a new senior in town. But on a serious note, the fact that I’ll be turning 30 has given me a fresh perspective. I kinda see it as a new beginning. A reason to do those things I’ve always wanted to do but haven’t done because of lack or time, money, or warrants issued for my arrest in other states and countries.

In my opinion, 30 is not the end of the world as we know it. Instead, some feel that 30 is the age where a person becomes a full-fledge adult and your 20s are all just a trial run. Though my male biological clock may be ticking, I’m choosing to remain positive about it. In fact, a Google search pulled up hundreds of support groups for people who have taken the plunge and are aging rapidly—I mean, gracefully. One of the sites dedicated towards those of us who are up there in age says that we just get better with time, like wine and cheese. And who doesn’t enjoy cheese? Well, now that I think about it, in a few weeks when I’m elderly, I should probably avoid cheese. I hear it binds you. But I digress. Turning 30 means that my car insurance will probably be cheaper. And, I’ll finally get to point my finger at people and exclaim, “Do you know how old I am?” when I want to validate my point. I’ve always wanted to do that. On top of that, I’ll finally get to buy all those books geared towards 30-somethings without being turned away as a fraud at the register. Even better, I’ll be middle aged so I’ll get to have the new cars, clothes, and job that go along with the mid-life crisis. Yes, there’s just so much to look forward to.

Recently, after crying and spending an entire therapy session singing, “End of the Road,” one of my shrinks informed me that now is a great time to evaluate my life. You know, reflect on where I’ve come from and where I plan on going. In doing so, I realized that I still haven’t traveled to Los Angeles or Las Vegas like I’ve always wanted to. I still haven’t gone horseback riding. My novel is not yet complete. And most of all, I haven’t found myself just yet. I may now be an oldie but goodie, but the cool thing about turning 30 is that I’m still alive to do all of those things. Regardless of how anyone feels about the concept of aging, being able to wake up each morning is a blessing compared to the alternative. For myself, turning 30 is just the beginning and my best days are still ahead of me. There is still the potential for me to do all the things I wanted to accomplish when I was a little boy—back in the day, when I was young, and anything after 7 was past my bedtime.

Michael Rochelle

Access my full blog: www.justmichael.net/blog
Access my website: www.justmichael.net

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One Comment

  1. Adonis Seldon says:

    Luckily, I and do mean LUCKILY, this is all a hoax-to a certain degree. (If I may speak from a critics’ point of view), Michael Rochelle seems to believe that the Apocalypse has come to anyone who reaches the age of 30. If this is the case, then no one should be proud of reaching this apex of their miserable existence. If you are worrying about tucking your chin in your pants, slowing metabolism to the point where you would find yourself on the episode of the Golden Girls living in Miami, then you have totally succeeded in becoming “old.” But to be a bit more optimistic, most people dont usually find themselves until they reach the decade of their 30’s and reach their mountain peak sometime in their 40’s. Look at the clear evidence. Bill Gates, Oprah, Tyler Perry, etc… So dont hurl yourself in front of a train like many old British Literature characters and give up. Granted there are other biological forces like transfat, free radicals, and daytime soap operas which may make you feel old or older, but this is not the end. Its only the beginning. And for the “younger” generation who calls someone 25 old, I guess they just dont want to reach that age b/c they will be riding in that same boat like most of us who will hopefully be blessed enough to reach that old age that supposedly no one wants to reach or say aloud.

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