I turned 29 not too long ago and a mate asked how I'm coping with the Dirty Thirty fast approaching.
Truthfully? Looking back at my 20s I would never, ever, ever go back and do it all again. Never. Never in a million years. Never in a million years times infinity. Never in a million years times infinity plus one.
I've heard rumours that peeps sometimes get upset when their 20s are over. I'm feeling the exact opposite. Every single thing in my life is better at 29 than it was at 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26 and especially 27 (27 was a ba-a-ad year). 28 was awesome and I didn't think it could get any better until I turned 29.
One of the most awesome changes I've noticed over this Decade of Life is around body image. I don't look at my normal-sized body in the mirror anymore and see a chubster-wubster-flubbster she-whale.
I was exactly the same weight at 19 as I am now (58 kg if you must know). True, I had a chubby face back then, which is probably the reason so many people from uni who haven't seen me in a while yell, "Oh my GOD, you're so thin these days!" Nope. It was that beautifully natural process of puppy-fat-face-mush sinking in to create the chiseled cheek-bones I've grown to love. So don't worry puppy-fat 19 years olds, it'll happen to you too and you're gonna love it.
But my face was the only actual physical thinning that has happened in the last decade, because I was 58kg then, and I'm 58kg now. 95% of the shift in my body image paradigm has happened in my head.
I'll never forget the day. I was 19, I'd just taken a shower and I walked past the mirror. I noticed a new addition to my body - a small roll of flubber round my tummy. This was my reaction.
After bemoaning the grossness of this new and unwanted body part I gave him a name. Augustus Gloop, after the fatty from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. That's what I thought Fat Roll was. A nasty, obese-food-baby-child sent from the depths of Hades to ruin my chances of pulling hot manshakes.
I hated Augustus and would get depressed every time I noticed him. I'm a bit of an anti-dietist, I'd never deprive myself of the things I love, which include steak, chocolate, nachos, burgers, ice cream, liquorice all-sorts, wine, coffee, Diet Pepsi, beer, cider, ALL products made out of piggies (crispy bacon and ribs... mmm...), chocolate coated Digestives... You get the drift. I'd never be able to diet if my life depended on it.
At 19, 20, 21 and 22 Augustus made my life hell.
But then something funny happened. When I was 23 I travelled Europe for six months and I noticed Chubby Fat Roll was keeping me warm...
Then at 24 and 25 I started running longer distances. Whenever I thought I didn't have enough energy I'd pinch Augustus and would know that I had enough reserves to get through anything. So I ran my first half marathon.
Then I moved to Dubai and became a raging alco, so between the ages of 26 and 28 I don't remember much. I wouldn't know if Augustus was there or not, it's all lost in a drunken haze of insobriety.
Then I moved to London and I turned 29. And to my utter shock, I've discovered that I've grown to love Augustus. He's been with me through thick and thin. He's my tiny little chub roll. He's soft to spoon at night and he has a personality all of his own (he grumbles when he's hungry and sits quietly and contently when he's had enough supper).
Life is so much better at 29 than it was ten years ago, it's freekin' ridiculous.
Truthfully? Looking back at my 20s I would never, ever, ever go back and do it all again. Never. Never in a million years. Never in a million years times infinity. Never in a million years times infinity plus one.
I've heard rumours that peeps sometimes get upset when their 20s are over. I'm feeling the exact opposite. Every single thing in my life is better at 29 than it was at 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26 and especially 27 (27 was a ba-a-ad year). 28 was awesome and I didn't think it could get any better until I turned 29.
One of the most awesome changes I've noticed over this Decade of Life is around body image. I don't look at my normal-sized body in the mirror anymore and see a chubster-wubster-flubbster she-whale.
I was exactly the same weight at 19 as I am now (58 kg if you must know). True, I had a chubby face back then, which is probably the reason so many people from uni who haven't seen me in a while yell, "Oh my GOD, you're so thin these days!" Nope. It was that beautifully natural process of puppy-fat-face-mush sinking in to create the chiseled cheek-bones I've grown to love. So don't worry puppy-fat 19 years olds, it'll happen to you too and you're gonna love it.
But my face was the only actual physical thinning that has happened in the last decade, because I was 58kg then, and I'm 58kg now. 95% of the shift in my body image paradigm has happened in my head.
I'll never forget the day. I was 19, I'd just taken a shower and I walked past the mirror. I noticed a new addition to my body - a small roll of flubber round my tummy. This was my reaction.
After bemoaning the grossness of this new and unwanted body part I gave him a name. Augustus Gloop, after the fatty from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. That's what I thought Fat Roll was. A nasty, obese-food-baby-child sent from the depths of Hades to ruin my chances of pulling hot manshakes.
I hated Augustus and would get depressed every time I noticed him. I'm a bit of an anti-dietist, I'd never deprive myself of the things I love, which include steak, chocolate, nachos, burgers, ice cream, liquorice all-sorts, wine, coffee, Diet Pepsi, beer, cider, ALL products made out of piggies (crispy bacon and ribs... mmm...), chocolate coated Digestives... You get the drift. I'd never be able to diet if my life depended on it.
At 19, 20, 21 and 22 Augustus made my life hell.
But then something funny happened. When I was 23 I travelled Europe for six months and I noticed Chubby Fat Roll was keeping me warm...
Then at 24 and 25 I started running longer distances. Whenever I thought I didn't have enough energy I'd pinch Augustus and would know that I had enough reserves to get through anything. So I ran my first half marathon.
Then I moved to Dubai and became a raging alco, so between the ages of 26 and 28 I don't remember much. I wouldn't know if Augustus was there or not, it's all lost in a drunken haze of insobriety.
Then I moved to London and I turned 29. And to my utter shock, I've discovered that I've grown to love Augustus. He's been with me through thick and thin. He's my tiny little chub roll. He's soft to spoon at night and he has a personality all of his own (he grumbles when he's hungry and sits quietly and contently when he's had enough supper).
Life is so much better at 29 than it was ten years ago, it's freekin' ridiculous.
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