The 30th
In the months leading up to my 30th birthday I made some really big changes. I had been separated from my husband (no ex-husband) for about 18 months or so, I had decided to leave the public service and give the private sector thing a bash, which meant leaving the building I have been turning up to for years every day as well as what was inside the building.

It was a really significant change and one that I was petrified of. I had so many memories of the inside of this building and the one we had moved from over the road a couple of years before, and the place was filled with people I knew, gossip I knew, routines I was very comfortable in and a level of confidence about my work simply because I was so familiar with it and the way things operated around the place.

I was hooked up and tight as with all the important people, the mailroom, the bloke who can get your phone connected and get you a new mobile if you happen to misplace it or it breaks – that’s code for “got pissed and left it in a taxi” or “it fell into a glass of gin, I then tried to wash the gin off with a bucket of hot water and when trying to pick it out of the water I dropped it and it smashed” – but every workplace has their “code language”.

I was hooked in the IT blokes who sorted me with a new laptop after mine was “stolen” and this was genuine, because I got very sick (drunk) and was forced to take a taxi home (was unable to stand up or walk anywhere and had also vomited on myself) and left it safely in the taxi where I expect it to still be when I woke up surrounded by Mc Donalds wrappers in bed the following morning, but some opportunistic arsehole took it – STOLE IT!

So leaving this safe haven of connectedness was a terrifying thing. I was surrounded by some of my best friends and at times I felt like I was back at high school – especially when I set all the stationary belonging to one of my best friends in a big bowl of jelly and had him called to reception to collect it, or when the same friend and I had been out boozing and doing air guitar on our knees at the Champagne Lounge until all hours one evening and headed back over the road to the office to collect out bags and the security guards on the speaker phone wouldn’t let us in until we could spell our own names without slurring our speech – they were all in the control room laughing at us while we gave it a good bash and finally let us into the office where we found our other friend who had ditched us earlier devouring a whole chicken at his desk – yes, we certainly were exemplary examples of responsible career public servants in those days.

So I was leaving all of this behind me. I think the only two things that made it possible were the fact that my best friend and air guitar comrade had just recently left for a 12 month secondment to private sector, which left me feeling like someone had removed a limb from my body, and the place was so empty and boring without being able to organise a call from the “Ministers Office” and watch the bullets of sweat pour from his head when the caller informed him of major industrial action or mass sackings in the automotive industry. The other thing that made it possible was that I wanted nothing more than to tell my fucked up manager at the time to go and fuck herself when I got the offer of another job.

Let me explain – this woman is covered in freckles, her face is sunken and ugly as a hat full of arseholes sucking on a lemon and she has short red hair which is mainly grey and looks exactly like pubes on her head, and worse of all, she wears nothing but flat shoes – these woman are the worst kind and can not be trusted.

This crazy cat also has a condition known as vertigo. For those who may not know what this is I can’t help you there, go and look up google – but what I can tell you is that it forces her to lie on the floor, or the street or wherever she should find herself when she has one of these “episodes”.

I have seen her laying down in Collins Street in the middle of peak hour, and she could regularly be spotted laying under her desk where sometimes she would actually hold meetings because she was fine if she was laying down – apparently, that’s not mentioning the fact that she was actually fucked in the head and that there was absolutely nothing “fine” about her at all.

So telling her I was leaving in two days was actually a fucking sensational feeling, and on my final day when she was dicking me about and preventing me from going to my farewell function by calling a very important “meeting” and I got up and told her that it was ‘very fucking simple, I have reviewed the file and provided a full and detailed report which included recommendations for further action and was not prepared to continue this bullshit discussion’ – yeah, I was quite happy with that.

But then I had to go to this new job and I was terrified, it was fine, the bloke I was working with was ace, we were the same age and he was fantastic to work with and as soon as I met him I felt like we were just great mates. The job however was a complete misery and was not anything like what I had been told it was and what was far worse was that the business was completely stuffed, it was built on a business plan that was worth less than budget toilet paper and there was not a chance in the world that it was going to remain viable. I was right, it died in the arse and although I did ultimately resign, it went under not long after.

But having this go on, as well as the other really big changes in my life at the time left me on some fairly shaky ground and in the lead up to my 30th birthday I was not in the best state.

I suddenly realised that I was no longer 20 whatever and that I no longer had my 20’s and 30’s to figure my shit out and get myself organised and work out if I wanted to have kids or not, I now only had my 30’s – what the fuck! Where had the last 10 years gone and how did they get by me without giving me the opportunity to sort myself out!!!

I had a plan, I am not sure exactly what it was but it sure as fuck was NOT THIS!

I never really saw myself in the future or had a concept of what I wanted to be or look like or be doing by now but I know I didn’t want to be a miserable dateless fat arsed drunk with a shit job, an ex-husband, two mad dogs and a house in crazy need of renovations – this was not in the plan - I knew that much.

The day of my 30th birthday party rolled around. It was 5th of January, my actual birthday is the 7th so the party was the Saturday night prior and it was hot, bloody hot, 42 degrees most of the night actually and when it did cool down I think the lowest it got was around 37.

My sister and I spent the night before the party drinking wine and cooking food for the event, which was held at my home in Abbotsford. It was a huge effort and the food was truly delicious.

The party kicked off before I even had time to organise myself, I had put on some weight and my boobs were much larger than they had been in a while, coupled with the fact that it was so hot and I was sweating like a pig on a spit, the silk and velvet dress with a zip at the side was not doing up, no way. I had to lie on the floor with my arms over my head whilst my sister stood on my boobs from the side, pressing them down and pulling the zip up simultaneously – I am not sure how but it worked – eventually.

I was drinking gin, its so refreshing and yummy and the heat was making me sweat so much I felt like I was going to melt, I actually started to notice that I was walking with my legs apart as my crouch was so sweaty with the heavy dress on and all the running around – it was truly disgusting.

The thing is with gin is that it sneaks up on you, I can drink gallons of the stuff but sometimes it just hits you, and its normally when you have not been able to eat anything which was the case that day, and when you happen to be a bit emotional which I was already but then became more so when my father decided to “confront me” about my “weight issues” as I stood out the front of my house welcoming my guests.

At one stage I became so hysterical and was crying so hard that guests were turning up and trying to sneak past me to try and find the “fun” people! I AM the fun people!!! But I was a wet, sweaty crying mess and I felt like the culmination of the last 6 – 12 months of anxiety and crisis was pouring out of me, my grief on display for my guests and all the passers by in the street.

After I gathered myself together and drank some more gin I continued with the festivities, the music was pumping the booze was flowing and the house was packed, it was a great night and everyone was stinking hot but having a great time – that is until it came time to have the speeches……

My sister kicked them off with a bit of a tanks for coming and ‘I love my sister’ etc, my dad went next with a bit of banter about how proud he is of me and despite the fact I know this is certainly not the case, it was a moving moment all round.

It was then my turn. I was quite pissy at this stage and thought I would kick off with a bit of light hearted entertainment so launched into ‘well, I have slept with a HUGE number of me’, at which time my fathers head went down into his hands and I could tell he was looking to see if there was a clear path to the exit so that he didn’t have to listen to anymore details about my sex life, there wasn’t, he was stuck and I was going to make him hear it all!

So I banged on for a bit about how I have had one miserable and failed relationship after another, how I was recently dumped on Christmas Day, and how my ex-husband ‘left me for that slut Cindy and her great body with a tight pussy’ – oh the joy. I continued with the banter about my miserable existence and how lucky I was to have all these great friends around me – and I meant it, I wouldn’t have wanted to hang around with me at this time and I was fortunate enough to have people who did!

My sister was decent enough to cut me off when everyone in the place had clearly had enough of my rubbish and the party continued for many hours. My uncle was rolling joints on the back table that looked like Cuban cigars and I was smoking them one after another after I was certain my dad had left for the evening – but suddenly he came back and my sister and I looked at each others paranoid faces trying to work out how we could pretend to our father that we were not completely ripped – the thought that I am now 30 years old and in my own home, that I pay the mortgage for didn’t even occur to me and finally he left so I could smoke some more, that is until I decided that I wanted to be alone and kicked everyone out, including one of my very old friends who is now “The Hot Man” in my life and my oldest friend from primary school who I refused to even let stay inside while she waited for her taxi – my hospitality had clearly gone off in the heat with the cheese platter.

I am not actually sure I really achieved much about figuring this turning 30 stuff out. I did however leave the job, I went back to the workplace I knew, this could be seen as a step backwards but it provided a sense of security which is important and I have had a few jobs since being back and all of them have giving me more skills and experience so perhaps it was just about me accepting my decision to be a career public servant.

I also came to the decision that I want to have children, this was an important step because it means that I am more selective about the kinds of men do meet or spend time with, they need to be deserving of my time and conversation but they also need to meet with the expectation that they may one day father my children – I no longer date men because they have a cool car or a great CD collection.

I have decided to spend more money and time on my house and my efforts to improve my little home have been quite remarkable of late, which may not be turning back the hands of time on the birth certificate, or challenging the pull that gravity seems to be having on my arse and my boobs, but it has put me in a good head space and has given me the opportunity to feel a bit better about my surroundings…..as for the dogs, they are still completely bloody mad, but and endless source of entertainment and amusement and frankly I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I think the madness that engulfed my life in the lead up to my 30th was horrible and seems to have really continued to a large degree, but then recently I realised that all the worry about it has not done anything except perhaps provide a distraction from the fact that I am actually now staring 32 between the eyes and I still have a long way to go before I work out what I want to be, do and what’s more scary now than ever before is that I now have no plan what-so-ever so lets just hope this means I don’t have to go through all the same rubbish when I turn 40, I am not sure my liver will be up to it!