The big 30

The day I turned 29 I felt completely and utterly depressed.  I lay in my bed thinking that it was the last 20-something, and then that feeling of total finality set in.  I sulked and got up and got on with it.  Just before I turned 30 this year, a friend of mine already living with the 30’s, so considerately told me that all goes south when the big day finally arrives.  What a heaped load of bull I thought.  So the big day arrived, very unceremoniously and oh so non Southey eventful.  Strange though… in the weeks to follow I found myself unexpectedly drawn to the sweet nectar of instant face lift creams and moisturisers.  My just before bed nightly routine now included a slowly, well-orchestrated plan of repair and prevention.  I lay in bed looking at my “granny tummy”… that little inflated life jacket that suddenly inflates, and no matter how much you try to suck it in, it remains cast as if in stone…life is dead set on saving you if you ever had to fall in deep water!  It is at this point exactly that I undoubtedly reach for a cure of all ills. My delicious 200g slab of chocolate.. And as the aroma kreeps up my nostrils and it melts delectably in my mouth, I can’t help but think that a little granny flab is just sooo worth it.

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