The Rich Vegetarian

An Examined Life

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Tag: self (page 1 of 3)

#Thisis40

It is Day 1, and we have no ideas. Day 2, week 3, month 4, year 5, 6, 10, 13… the ideas come on, slow in the beginning, increasing in speed as the years go by.

I am a talker. Oh, I have no friends. Am I popular? I am intelligent. Am I a snob? Teachers like me! I am nice looking. Am I too smart? I am cheeky! I am a stick — no curves on my body, no curves in my hair — it is all straight! I think I might be attractive. Oh, guys like me! Am I intelligent, or plain lucky? Ooh, I am a sexual being. I hate this attention. I hate the spotlight. Maybe I am a shy person? Clearly, I am not a logical person. Wow, was I missing the signals ALL THESE YEARS? Such a misfit! Aargh, am I a tease? Do I believe in loyalty at all? I am so cold, so asexual. Ooh, I love people! I am a butterfly, flitting from person to person, place to place, one social scene to another! I am doomed to be forever cute, girl-child. Clearly, I am too darned open for my own good. Oh, I have zero social savvy, no sense of strategy at all, clearly a social misfit. Oh, people love me, kids love me, old aunties love me! I don’t want to work another job, not ever again. I am the original chamathu ponnu*, all over again, damn. I don’t want to talk to a soul! I need a couch and a warm blanket. God, give me absolute independence. Oh, I just crave silence! Ooh, I am sexy and attractive again? Me, a businesswoman? Perhaps. Maybe I like people, after all.

And so on, it continues. If I have a birthday resolution to make, it is this.

Stop The Labeling.

Time and again, I have surprised myself. Life is constantly ripping labels off me, so why do I bother affixing them?

Perhaps this is the point — Relax, Chill, Just Be. #Thisis40

*Can provide an explanation of the term, if required.

Turning 38

And that’s it… I am firmly ensconced in the late 30s.

How did it come to this so darned soon? When Mummy was 38, she had a 9-year-old and a 7-year-old. Two bright-eyed girls, straight black hair, serious and sincere and shy and outspoken (if that is even a legit combination). One of them is a successful professional, skilled and charming, cute and capable. She wins the hearts of almost everyone she meets.

The other? She is still wondering what she wants to be when she grows up.

Well, I have grown old without growing up. Or so it seems.

Wisdom doesn’t exactly announce its arrival. It kinda creeps into your life, hiding beneath silent conversations, endless ruminations, failed projects and relationships and tears and triumphs. You focus on the fireworks, not noticing that there is a solid line of grey developing within your core. Ahh, there it is.

Sometimes I feel like I am running (or walking) with a million things hanging off me. And it is a struggle, holding them all in, explaining their presence to others — half-emabarassed, half-proud.

Perhaps, 38 will be the age when I own all my belongings, no explanations or justifications needed.

This is it, this is me. Equal parts lost and found, curious and detached, imaginative and shy and introverted.

Happy and grateful for health, hair, bones, fire, hunger, love, food and everything else.