As I approach my 35th birthday, I’ve decided to share my birthday wish list, which perfectly encapsulates how liberating it is to be uncool in your mid-30s. Here’s what I gave to my spouse and child:
- A selection of candles (yes, I even sent my husband a coupon)
- Two pairs of cozy moccasins
- Slipper booties for ultimate comfort
- A gift card for books
- A gift card to a clothing store for some new intimates
- Something quirky from pop culture—perhaps a pin, patch, or a card with a fun quote that can be framed.
While I genuinely want all these items, I like to think of it as a multiple-choice quiz; my husband and daughter can choose one or two things to surprise me with. And let’s not forget, we’re also headed for a weekend getaway to a cabin in the woods, complete with a fireplace and required dinner reservations.
Speaking these wishes out loud might give you a sense of my impending doom—boredom has essentially claimed my life. Between the wish list and the cozy weekend, I find myself in a rather mundane existence. I even shave my chin and am currently dealing with a case of foot fungus. Who knew being in your 30s could be so thrilling?
Yet, the truth is, I’ve learned to embrace this period of life. There’s an undeniable freedom that comes with being socially accepted for being uncool. For most of my life, I’ve sported granny panties, and I’ve come to terms with the fact that books are my true passion. If there were an Olympic event for comfort, I’d surely take home the gold, and hoarding candles is my new hobby.
A few weeks ago, I ventured out to a dance bar where a staff member called me “ma’am.” Instead of sulking, I hit the dance floor and found joy in the presence of younger revelers. I even caught myself starting a sentence with “back in my day,” reflecting on how different things were when I was their age.
I wasn’t actually irritated with their antics but with the sheer space they occupied. Ironically, it was during Beyoncé’s “Run the World (Girls)”—a time when I should have been celebrating, not judging. But I worked through it and enjoyed myself, which is the beauty of being in your mid-30s: the realization that I don’t need to impress anyone anymore. I have comfy sweatpants waiting for me at home, holes and all, and a partner who loves me just the way I am.
In my younger years, I would have been embarrassed to admit my love for granny panties, but now I’d proudly display them like a flag. The misconception that they signify a joyless life is one I’d gladly debunk. My dedication to comfy sweatpants rivals anyone’s commitment to their passions—there’s simply no telling where I might be if I channeled that energy elsewhere.
So bring on 35 and 40; I’m ready for whatever life throws my way. This year, I’d love to receive laser hair removal for Christmas, and I can hardly wait.
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In summary, being in your mid-30s means being comfortable in your own skin, embracing your quirks, and finding joy in the simple things—like cozy clothes and the freedom of being unapologetically yourself.
Keyphrase: mid-30s uncoolness
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