A Woman of a Certain Age

Several things supposedly happen when a single woman hits 30:

1. Her biological clock starts ticking (very loudly)
2. She develops the beginning of middle-age spread
3. She begins to appreciate the younger men who find her attractive
4. Family members stop hinting about marriage and ask outright
5. She discovers herself
6. She gets a significant pay raise at work

Okay the last point isn’t necessarily true, but apparently the first five are to be expected. So did any of those things happen to me??...

Tick Tock
Ah, the Biological Clock, that imaginary device whose constant ticking serves as a reminder to women to “Have A Baby Soon, Have A Baby Soon.”

At some point I thought I might have to take my Clock in for repairs – most times it didn’t tick at all, though I did notice a very faint ‘tick tock’ when I saw a bathed, powdered, well-behaved baby. At one point I got worried – shouldn’t I be desperate to have a child? Shouldn’t I be staring wistfully at other people’s children? Maybe my Biological Clock needed new batteries?

Then I met J, then a two and a half month old and suddenly my phone is full of his photos. I clapped enthusiastically when he tried his first mouthful of solid food and celebrated when he tried to crawl. My Clock is working perfectly!

Looking Flabulous
*sigh* A few years ago I remember staring at my cousin's belly with disdain. If it was possible to have a conceited tummy, mine was it. It was flat and firm and looked down on any that was less than perfect.
As far as I was concerned a sagging belly on a woman without kids was the result of indiscipline! lack of self control! gluttony! I was the disciplined one. I was controlled, strong willed and yet, before I knew it I was on the way to displaying the genes I shared with my cousin.

I tried sit ups. I'd wake up half an hour earlier, stuff my feet under the couch in the living room and huff & puff my way through them. I'd read that Destiny's Child did about 300 sit ups a day and used that to motivate myself but I'd usually only manage five and a half before I gave up, telling myself "they do that because they earn their living from looking great. I don't have to"

As my suddenly-snug shirts confirm, I can no longer carelessly reach for one more doughnut and have taken to occasionally choosing tops which allow me the luxury of breathing. No more tight fitting tops if it means I have to walk around Lagos with my tummy sucked in.

Here's a great tip for anyone who wants to hang loose at work, especially after lunch: (assuming you have an adjustable swivel chair)
1. jack your seat down really low
2. pull yourself in towards your desk and...
3. voila! your tummy is neatly tucked away under your desk. Try it, it works. :-)