I'm Just At That Friggin Age!

Fuck! I can’t stand it! They all think they know what I feel like, and what I am going through. But none of them seem to know what I should do with it all. The information they give me is useless! Everyone keeps telling me that I am “At That Age”. There must be some invisible law or book that everyone older than me has read. What exactly is it supposed to mean when I tell people that I’m twenty-nine and they give me a knowing look and say “Oh, You are at that age.”? Well, evidentially, and according to two of my aunts on my moms side, I am headed for sexual bliss in the form of some kind of great sexual peak. Wow, yep, I’m feeling that. I can’t go more than five minutes with out thinking about having a nice buff body at my disposal. I’m worse than a sixteen year old boy in a porn shop. And I’m seriously beginning to wonder about the spin cycle on the washing machine…. But, according to the old ladies in the wine isle at the grocery store, I’m at the self awareness age. This is the age where I wake up one day and miraculously know exactly who I want to be, and what I want out of life. I believe that was the “Killing Me Fatty Day” (Look at previous blog). That was a life altering moment of sick realization that I was someone I hadn’t planned on being. And I have successfully begun the delicate metamorphosis of changing my life to fit the needs of the person I have now become. I have lost almost 40 pounds this last year, started running, got a different job, (something I am working on again) and quit smoking. It has been a busy year. But, then my older friends tell me that I am at that age where I’m having a good long momentary laps of reason due to the stress of ten years of marriage, and a midlife crisis on account of feeling trapped. I don’t know if that one totally fits, but I can see where they could point that finger. I love to travel, and in the last ten years I have managed to escape on one single weekend vacation to see my brother graduate from boot camp. Chicago isn’t my idea of a vacation. Vacations are supposed to have palm trees, or gondolas, not cab drivers and homeless shopping cart pushers. So, yeah, maybe I felt a little trapped. My husbands’ idea of a vacation is staying at the same hotel at the same beach where we always stay and just happens to be one hour away. Who knows, maybe it’s all of the above maybe I’m at that sex crazed midlife awakening part of my life where I flip my world upside down just to see what comes out of it. I guess it is all kind of comforting in a way. At least I know I’m not the only slightly stressed, slightly overworked twenty-nine year old woman in this world who woke up on the wrong side of the carpool one day. So I guess I’m at “That Age”. It’s the age where I get to make new decisions, and have a new outlook on life. This is the part when I step out into the unknown and begin the next section of my evolution as a woman. I’m at the spot where I face the road alone, not knowing where it will lead. So, does anyone have a copy of that infamous book that all of these older women have read? I would love to read it!