In a little under two months time my 35th birthday will be upon me and I have to admit that I’m feeling more than just a little apprehensive about being “the wrong side of thirty.” Shit!
Turning 30 was an iconic milestone in my life, which I was truly expecting to be the moment that I grew up and became a very responsible adult overnight – that didn’t happen at all! Mentally I still felt like I was eighteen inside, despite the cost of living rising and a few laughter lines creeping in.
So I’ve told myself in the coming years that “thirty is still young!” and taken comfort in the fact that being thirty was a new experience. But half a decade in now, the next leg of the journey is reaching forty and that’s a whole different ball game.
Men seem to become more classical and distinguished looking as they age, turning into a silver fox and having a whole mysterious James Bond vibe about them that makes them come across as mature and manly instead of young and immature.
Whereas I enjoy being young, pert and carefree and the female equivalent of James Bond is sadly more Nanny McPhee in comparison. So I think I’ll start counting down in age every birthday from now on, instead of up, because I’m really not prepared for the responsibility and expectations that come with being a grown up exiting my early thirties.
I’ve made the compromise of having my hair trimmed to shoulder length, switching my peroxide blonde for more natural highlights and buying a jumpsuit down to the ankle instead of only rocking mini skirts but that’s about as far as I’m willing to go with growing up until I reach my 21st birthday again!
For more pert and youth-inspired content check out www.onlyfans.com/tracykiss