I’m three months shy of my 30th.
Whatever anyone (generally those already through the gates, who all hate me right now) says, it is a landmark. It looms. It is a reminder of dreams, goals and promises made by Younger You.
I don’t know about you, but I have a conflicted relationship with the Younger Adeles. I’m trying to explain to a couple of them where I am now, and by and large, they’re looking at me like I haven’t just made a wrong turn, I’ve lost the map, if not the entire plot. They are shaking various ‘before I’m 30′ checklists at me, woefully unchecked.
So if I’m honest, this Meeting if Mes – it isn’t going brilliantly.
They don’t care that I’m as single as they were; they never have. They do, however, want to know what happened to my equestrian career; a couple of them are not hugely impressed at the financial situation (although others are not the least surprised); and don’t even get them started on the question of That Book That’s Supposed To Be Finished, Remember?
I understand their confusion. Adele of a year ago, for instance, considered the group exercise studio to be the actual and only point of a gym. The gym floor was a foreign country, a place where people inflicted complicated looking machinery on their bodies, grunted and generally displayed a range of expressions amongst which enjoyment was suspiciously absent.
Adele of five years ago had never even stepped inside a gym. (more…)