As I approach the dreaded 3-0, I’m inevitably spending (probably too much) time reflecting on the last decade. Sure, some of my “boxes” have been checked off — marriage, kids, house, etc. But other boxes remain as empty as my wine bottle after a Saturday night Netflix binge.
Here’s the breakdown of stuff I thought I would have figured out by now but, actually, don’t at all:
1. My personal style.
There’s no sugar coating this one: I have zero personal style. If it weren’t for Pinterest, I’m convinced that I’d still be walking around in Hollister t-shirts, flared jeans, and Doc Martens. My idea of shopping is stumbling around a clothing store while I stare at a picture of an outfit that I like on my phone. After furiously searching the racks for items that somewhat resemble the photo, I usually fail miserably and end up in the shoe department, where I try on dozens of shoes for said imaginary outfit. I then resort to just buying my kids more crap that they don’t need so I don’t leave empty-handed.
2. A solid, consistent exercise routine.
I try. And by “try,” I mean I actively think about using the elliptical machine my husband gave me when I was 7 months pregnant with our third child — but have never once touched. When I first received it, I remember professing, “I’m getting on that beast two hours after I give birth!” (Dream big, right?) Well, I haven’t used it (or sold it) yet. It is a good feeling to have the option to workout though, should the mood strike. But it hasn’t yet. (Maybe tomorrow?) My irrational belief that I can only start a new exercise routine on a Monday probably isn’t helping, either …
3. Decent makeup skills.
I seriously give up on this one. I’m still using powdered bronzer to create my “morning glow,” but now I have to figure out how to highlight, contour, and blend (and somehow not look like a damn tiger with lines on my face!). Apparently, it’s “all about the brushes” you use. Listen, the only brush I’m spending over $5 on is my toothbrush, because I’d like my teeth to last for the next 50-60 years.
I bought my first eyebrow pencil four months ago only to discover that these aren’t cool anymore, either. It’s all about “microblading” now, which just means that my eyebrows will look like drunk caterpillars for the rest of my life.
After I recently splurged on a $9 mascara, I came to find out that nobody uses mascara anymore. (What?!) You get eyelash extensions now, Instagram tells me. And while I admit they are amazing, for someone who has seasonal allergies and spends all day rubbing her eyes like I do … they’re not exactly worth it.
And can we talk about eyeshadow? It used to be so easy to buy as long as you steered clear of the bright blue ones. But, hey, not anymore! Now it’s four colors to get one look, and more highlighting and blending.
And don’t even get me started on the lip stains. Why do I need to STAIN my lips? Isn’t that what wine is for? Why can’t my lipstick just end up all over my teeth like a normal person? Lip stains are too much of a commitment for me. Like, how do I know I want my lips to be colored “Little Red Corvette” all day long? What if at 6 PM I want to switch it up to “Get Your Freak On” burgundy? And while we’re on the subject, why are all lipsticks matte now? The lines around my eyes and on my forehead aren’t enough for you? Now I need to show off lines on my lips, too? No, thanks.
4. A decent hair style.
Again, Pinterest, $200 worth of styling tools and products, and an amazing hairstylist, have made me somewhat successful in this department. However, if I had to grade my hair on a good day I’d probably give it around a C+. Only slightly above average, but nothing to get too excited about.
The majority of the time my hair is piled up on the top of my head because it needs to get the hell out of my face. French braids, backcombing, and effortless beach curls are up there on the list of styles that will escape me no matter how many YouTube tutorials I watch. I have more hair than I know what to do with, and while I know most women dream of thick hair, I dream of being able to blow dry my hair without breaking into a sweat.
The way I see it, I’ve got 7 months to get all this figured out. And if not? Well, guess I’ll be coasting through my 30s the same way I did my 20s: with a permanent messy bun, no makeup in sight, and Crocs on my feet (when no one’s looking, of course). But hey, maybe that’s my personal style, after all.