Becky says things about … what happens in your 30s

Gentle Listener, I am now 31.

I’ve learnt things.

I want to share them with you.

Here they are.

  • If you can’t think of a hilarious and verbose introduction to a list-based blog post, short and sweet is king.
  • Everyone in the world is either married or engaged.
  • If you are not married or engaged, you start to fear that the reality of aged spinsters silently knitting alone is coming your way, baby.



  • You start tutting at loud music in shops.
  • Your friends start discussing mortgages and car insurance in the pub, and you’re too embarrassed to ask if anyone saw ‘World’s Most Dangerous Newts’ on Channel 5 last night.
  • Crouching for long periods of time doesn’t become impossible, but unpleasant.
  • The wrinkles that you see on grown-up people suddenly appear on your own fair skin, overnight. Next to the fresh spot that popped up yesterday.


  • Facebook is swamped with first smiles, first steps, first birthdays, first school photos, first managed-not-to-shit-on-the-floor-but-in-the-allocated-potty-in-the-allocated-poo-station-in-the-corner-of-the-bathroom-s.
  • If you don’t have a child with which to adorn Facebook with its firsts, your parent friends assume that there is an old ice cream tub where your womb should be.


  • If you accidentally buy trousers with elasticated waists, you do not freak out at their tragic agedness, but rather relish in their supportive yet luxurious comfort.
  • A nice cup of tea and a sit down is literally the shit.
  • You find bits of your body evolving into places you cannot follow.


  • You don’t buy clothes on their fashion merits, but on your judgment on whether they will maintain you at a pleasing temperature.
  • A bottle of wine + ‘British kids’ TV theme tunes from the 80s’ on YouTube = Best. Night. Ever.
  • You see your friends every two months instead of twice a week because of children / honeymoons / mortgage repayments / late-night working / business trips to New York / prison.
  • You have to start taking paracetamol before, possibly during, and definitely after a drinking session to mitigate the risks.
  • You genuinely start to not give a poppins about what people think of you and you’re much better with criticism.




  • There is literally nothing more exciting than discovering a 70-part show to binge watch on Netflix.
  • People falling over is still funny.
  • You start asking for grown-up things like saucepan sets, slow cookers and new mattresses for birthdays and Christmas, and are genuinely thrilled when you receive them.
  • You see your childhood toys labelled as ‘vintage’ and ‘retro’ on eBay, and a small part of you dies (but you secretly don’t mind now being ‘retro’).
  • You are still not too old or grown-up to act like a right brat in front of your parents.


  • You keep a packet of Rennies or Tums in your bag, because indigestion is an evil you do not care for.
  • You fear for humanity when you see pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio looking a bit old and podgy.
  • You cannot grasp what a ‘gif’ or a ‘vine’ is, and you’re too afraid to ask.
  • Vicious forces start mucking about with Time, and as a result, Christmas comes round every three weeks, yesterday was 5th May and today is 30th October, and when someone asks you what month you went to Greece, you assume this pose:


  • You realise that, when you thought at the age of 22 that by the time you were 30 you’d know what words like ‘dividend’ and ‘remittance’ mean, you were naive, and you don’t.
  • You are utterly fascinated by teenagers, because the last time you spoke to one, you were one.
  • Instead of saving up all your money to go on a £100 blow-out on a Saturday, you drink moderately and consistently throughout the week.


  • If you’re a writer, the phrase ‘Write drunk; edit sober’ is literally the best advice anyone has literally given to anyone literally ever.
  • If your night out edges much past 11pm, you start desperately worrying about transport.
  • You get vague pangs of envy when you see nubile, dewy, smooth-skinned 20-somethings prancing around and necking shots, but then you remember you have a fresh packets of crumpets in your cupboard at home.


  • You still catch yourself thinking the phrase ‘When I grow up’ and wince inwardly and painfully every time.
  • None of the above is really so bad.

So, if you are yet to tumble into your 30s, you have all this to look forward to; and if you are past your 30s, please don’t spoil the surprise. We’ll find out soon enough.

Like, TOMORROW, at this rate.

36 thoughts on “Becky says things about … what happens in your 30s

  1. I’m not far from being 30, and these things are definitely happening – particularly the part about being single and an avid crocheter. And fine lines showing up next to pimples. AND I think World’s Most Dangerous Newts sounds like a fascinating show – so yep, I must be getting old!

  2. HEHEH … “If you’re a writer, the phrase ‘Write drunk; edit sober’ is literally the best advice anyone has literally given to anyone literally ever.” Has got to be my favorite part. I’ve never tried writing drunk, mostly cause I think that’s the last thing I should do when I’m already obnoxious enough, but now I’m going to. ❤

    1. Oh God, writing drunk is excellent! I don’t mean so drunk that all you end up with ‘bbllllllllaaaaaaaaaghhhhhhhsdfkjdfksfjkfkjadfakvvngpoweasdxzzzzzzzzzzz’, but just tipsy enough to get rid of any inhibitions or second guessing. It can have surprising results….

  3. I will never tire of stickman. 🙂

    I cringe every time a new 22-yr old, straight from college pretty little thing gets hired at work. I used to be 22… I used to be the youngest in the company. Sigh… I suppose it’s not THAT bad though. =/

    1. Lils!!!! Long time no speak! I used to be 22 too… and the youngest in the company…. there are now two 24 year-olds, and I struggle to deal with it. I don’t know how to act around them. Do I mother them or do I try to be their friend, even though I don’t understand some of the words they use?

  4. There is an upside to being 60 though, Becky. It’s sort of like a super power. I’m 60, and every now and again the conversation will come up about age, usually with someone younger than myself. I’m occasionally asked if I miss the things that I used to do, like running fast and jumping, climbing on stuff, etc. ( no need to run fast, even with a zombie apocalypse all I need to do is walk faster than the Zombos.) or I’m asked about things I can no longer eat and drink. The list could go on but I think you covered most of those items.
    So when we are having this conversation about what I can and cannot do I will tell them. Watch this: I will then drop a pen, a sheet of paper, a book, it doesn’t matter, just drop something. Someone will rush to pick it up for me. Every. Time. Once after what was dropped is handed back to me I will just say… “Can you do that?” “Does that ever happen for you?” I just usually get a shy ‘No’
    So keep that in mind, once you’re in your late 50’s or 60’s and if there is someone within eyesight, you will never have to pick something up again.

    Thanks for your wonderful post.
    Staying alive.

    1. Hahahahaha this is up there with one of my favourite comments ever 🙂
      That is DEFINITELY something to look forward to. To have a personal picker-upper WHEREVER YOU GO??? Luxury!
      And as for running from Zombies – you’re spot on, who needs to run fast to outrun zombies? Have you SEEN how quickly they move? It’s like sprinting off to outrun a tortoise. Unnecessary exertion. Just walk with wide, purposeful strides, and you’ve already left them miles behind. That’s my experience with zombies, anyway.
      Thank you for reading and commenting, Alvin, and thank you for making me laugh 🙂
      Keep staying alive!

  5. I’ll be 25 next week and an alarming thing has happened in the last three months: I have taken up sewing my own clothes and developed an interest in gardening. I spent my entire childhood resisting my mother’s attempts to convince me that growing things in the mud, outside, where the flies and beetles are, was a good way to spend valuable computer time, and now I own a spade, a trowel, one of those little fork thingies, a pair of gardening gloves and a book about organic vegetable gardens.

    What is this madness?!

    1. Hahahaha it happens to everyone! I caught myself looking up National Trust subscriptions the other day……
      Gardening is a fine pastime – although if you take it one step further and start growing turnips and entering Largest Vegetable competitions, I’d start to worry…

      1. I have had a National Trust membership for several years now. It is my birthday present from my brother. I think I’ll go and make a cup of tea and listen to Radio Fou… NO WHAT AM I THINKING QUICK PASS THE VODKA AND COKE. (I never drank vodka and coke, even in my wildest youth.)

  6. I laughed at this post, but what I was really doing was nodding to myself constantly. The worst part is that I am in my 40’s and while much of this is true…..there is so much more to complain about now.

      1. You don’t need to thank me for reading. Your posts are very compelling. Whenever there is a beckysaysthings on my reader page, I am very happy.

  7. You have my sympathy…NOT! Because all of these things changes once again when you hit 40. And you tell yourself that 40 is the new 30 and it’s not downhill from here…

  8. What are newts? And how does one “accidentally” buy elastic waisted pants? (I’m over 40, so I’m especially confused because apparently I should already know the answers to these questions.)

      1. I guess that says something about getting older in itself doesn’t it: when younger I’d spend hours & try a thousand things on – it was part of the ritual of shopping. Nowadays, if I can get away with not trying something on so I can get out of there faster, I will. So far no elasticised errors though! 🙂

  9. I’m a 55 year old child-free spinster and have found that growing older just gets better and better. Especially after you no longer worry about being someone else’s definition of a Grown-up!


  10. Oh, I forgot to tell you – ten years ago when I was 24, I encountered the new young people at work and they didn’t even know what I was on about when I said about having a Crunchie on a Friday! You know, like the advert. Thank Crunchie it’s Friday. That was the first time I felt old.

    1. CHRIST. Of course I remember. I was talking about ‘Gladiators’ the other day, and, before I realised what I was doing, asked the 23 year-old girl in the office who her favourite Gladiator was. She said ‘Er, Russell Crowe, obviously.’ I withdrew into my crusty old shell.

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