Y’all, today is my 35th birthday. And to paraphrase another spring holiday, it has me asking “Why is this birthday different from other birthdays?” Actually, the question comes out a little more like “Why the fuck is everyone acting like this birthday is so different from all my other birthdays and why do I feel so weird about it?”
I’ve had no fewer than three people wish me a happy birthday this week and then, on learning it’s my 35th, look slightly troubled and say reassuring things like “Oh, it’s not so bad” or “Well, you’ve still got plenty of time.” A female friend joked that she hopes I “get to be 35 forever.” Because getting old is baaaaad, and once you cross the threshold of the big 3-5, there’s no going back. Google “Women turning 35″ and you’ll find equal parts scary stuff about declining fertility and why women should “settle”, and women’s blog posts contemplating the birthday with concern, dread, or deep introspection, mostly thanks to those scary articles. And don’t get me started on all the Google and Facebook ads I get: Fertility clinics! Fad diets! Botox! “35 and Still Single?”
I am not worried about my weight. I am slightly more worried about wrinkles, but I use a good moisturizer. I would like to have children. I would like to get married—or simply have a long-term committed relationship (involving frequent laughter and hot sex, of course). I think those things will happen for me. If they don’t, I will be disappointed. But I also know with 100% rock-solid certainty that there are much more disappointing things than being single at 35.
Unfortunately, that seems to be a minority opinion.
Society, ladymags, movies, all spend an inordinate amount of time dripping alarm and faux-concern over the dismal 35-year old single lady. I already vented about that in my Bridget Jones post last month. If you’re not married by 35, you’re an object of pity at best and contempt at worst. Besides the gender double-standard—no one pities a 35 year old single man—it’s an alarmingly skewed vision of life as a Jane Austen novel: once love is declared and the marriage sealed, we can run the curtain down because happily ever after is guaranteed. It’s a dangerous idea, and it leads to a lot of unhappiness and dissatisfaction. Some of the saddest, loneliest people I know are the ones who bought into the idea of marriage as a kind of magic shellac that would smooth out and gloss over the cracks and damage and imperfections in their lives. What they ultimately discovered was that all their cracks and damage—and their spouses’, too—were still present, only the magic shellac had dried and hardened and they were trapped, often with a mortgage, a kid or two, and no easy way to get unstuck.
That could have been me. When I was 30, I fully intended to marry my boyfriend. We were desperately in love. But it ended, for reasons I’ve mentioned before. It was an excruciating breakup that took me a couple years to recover from. It was also the best fucking decision I ever made, and not a day goes by—literally—that I’m not thankful I made it. My life would have been significantly different—and much less happy—had I married him, although I spent many sleepless, pining nights before I realized that.
Still, knowing intellectually that I have a great life and that I’m lucky to be happily single doesn’t prevent me from quivering a bit when I read all the scare messages about how my ovaries are drying up or fuming when my relatives start tsk-tsking about when I’ll get married (Best underminery from the Sharper clan: when I was 29 and at a family wedding, the mother of the groom slyly told me “If you get married soon, Grandma will be able to give a toast at your wedding too!” Since Grandma died two years ago this month, I suppose there’s no reason to rush anymore.) Frequent exposure to pessimism, alarmism, condescension, double standards—it takes a toll.
I suspect that the bullshit will only continue to pile up from here on out. Even if I do settle down and start a family, the “ZOMG, your ancient ovaries!” alarmism will not abate—ask any pregnant woman over 35. The messages about how I’m getting progressively less attractive—and therefore less worthy and useful—will only get worse.
But fuck it. Today I’m going to celebrate NOT getting married, NOT having children and NOT giving a fuck what the Patriarchy, or the ladymags, or advertisers, or the underminers have to say about it. I have excellent hindsight, and I know that had I done any of those things in the past 35 years, I might have fulfilled someone else’s vision of what my life should be, but I would be a hell of a lot less personally fulfilled myself.
* This spring also marks the 35th birthdays of PhDork and her Dude, tomorrow is SarahMC’s (non-35th) birthday, and later this month is PSoul’s (also non-35th)!
Turning 35 meant one thing to me- I am now eligible for the presidency.
Happy Birthday Sweetheart, but 35 years ago from the time of this posting I still had hours of work to do! XOXO
Happy birthday! I sometimes fall into the illusionary world where, because I don’t believe any of this crap, the women I see as my compatriots-in-feminism won’t believe it or be affected by it either. But then recently a friend — who proudly declares herself to be a feminazi and is single and 25 — told me that if she doesn’t have children by 30 she’s “giving up” and not having any (she truly wants kids). I was flabbergasted. After my gentle “You do realize that 30 isn’t even remotely old, right?” attempts, I just kind of went to a sad place. The arbitrary-timeline crap is everywhere. Blech. So in the face of family members and strangers having Very Important Judgments about what you should have accomplished / wed / gestated by your 35th, I’d just like to say: Happy Birthday!!
Also: dillene +1.
Happy Birthday, and AMEN. Have a piece of cake for me.
Happy Birthday, Harpies!
Either I was just oblivious, or the messages about 35 being the year of doom must’ve gotten worse in the last few years. I passed 35 happily oblivious, thinking that 40 was the year of doom, but somewhere around the time I turned 37 or 38, 35 became the new 40 (I’m 41 now)
Good for you, Becky. Seriously, when will people see reason?
Happy birthday Harpies!!
Happy birthday Becky!
I turned 35 this year and have to admit it’s the only birthday I’ve felt weird about. Not because I think 35 is old, and, frankly, I don’t really get too wrapped up in age (I feel I’ve worked hard for my years) but I definitely want kids, and knowing I’m now “Advanced Maternal Age” caused me to have a little bit of a freak out. I am happy to report, though, that not once did I feel like a pathetic single lady.
Happy birthday to the harpies celebrating birthdays!
10, 23,28, 31, 35 – whatever the number of years spent on the earth should be spent in celebration.
So blow out the candles, eat some cake and drink a cocktail or 7. Anyone who has done undermining in the past shouldn’t be invited to the celebration!
Get OUT! May 9 is MY 35th birthday, too. I also am childless and spouseless! Cheers to us and happy birthday!
Happy Birthday. Turning 35 (two whole years ago) was, like you said, weirder for everyone around me than it was for me. I don’t want children, so the thought of losing my fertility isn’t really an issue, but the pitying looks when I tell people, “No, I don’t have children,” are.
Happy birthday, BeckySharper. I think you raise a really good point about 35 being seen as a deadline for women in a way it is not for men (the same could be said for 30, really). When I look at the men I work with, 35 seems to be often be positioned as the very beginning of marriage, babies and domesticity. For women, it’s positioned as “ohhh shit”. And as yvanehtnioj points out, this can be just as true of pro-feminist types.
You’re a brilliant writer, and I hope you have an equally brilliant day.
Right, 35 is the magic age, and also 40, and also 30, and 50…all these arbitrary markers of when our worth as individuals starts declining because we are “losing” our beauty, youth, fertility, and the other aspects of womanity valued by the patriarchy. I just turned thirty this year. I am married and childless and I have no way of knowing if either of those conditions are permanent, or will make me happy, just like everybody else regardless of personal status. All I know is that the older I get, the happier and clearer I am and the more I value myself and don’t give a fig what others think. I have a feeling that is how most of these magic ages are going to feel. Maybe the truth is that these are the years in which our wisdom and power redoubles, and the patriarchy just can’t handle it so they douse us with stories about how we are now hags.
Anyway, happy birthday you strong Taurian woman! I have no doubt that whatever life brings you in the next 35, you will conquer the hell out of it!
Hope you have a fantastic birthday and many mooooooore! (*bad singing*)
Oh, the old “Do it before your relatives die!” underminery. I’ve gotten that, too. Makes me want to punch people in the face.
Happy birthday, Becky! I hope your day is filled with the booze of your choice, cake or pie (according to your preference) and lots and lots of good times.
Happy Birthday! I turn 35 in 2 months myself and I’m unmarried and childless with no desire to change either of those facts. Rock on!
Happy Birthday Becks! You know I don’t believe any of that shit and besides which, the older we get, the sooner the paradise of Harpy House will come!
P.S. My birthday is this month too!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday Becky, PhDork & Dude, SarahMC, and Pilgrim Soul! My 33rd birthday was Monday! Yay for May Birthdays!!
@ALL Y’ALL: Thank you so much! This really makes my day!
@dilene: I never considered the Presidential aspect of this birthday! Although if the contents of this blog were ever connected to my real name, I think it would kill any hope of holding elected office.
@PSoul: Wait, how did I not know that? ::rushes to wish PSoul a happy birthday in this post::
Happy Birthday, you kickass Harpy!!
Also, phooey to claims of post-35 pregnancies being bad news. My biomom, who’s also my aunt (surrogacy, not anything freaky!) gave birth to me at 38; her daughter, my cousin/half-sister, just gave birth to a healthy and lively little girl three and a half weeks ago at 37 (which makes Auntie Cat very happy!); and both my grandmothers gave birth to their last children—both my parents come from huge families, which means lots of aunts, uncles and cousins for me, even though I’m an only child—in their forties. So given all that, the idea of having a late pregnancy wouldn’t surprise me at all, I’d just be concerned about health issues. Then again, I’m only going to be 20 in July, so here’s hoping I don’t have to worry about that for a LONG time!
Happy birthday! I got married at 25 and had my first child at 30, and as much as I think those were the right choices for me, I get wistful thinking about opportunities I missed out on.
Remember, In the UK they started a public health ad campaign reminding women in their late thirties and their forties that they could still get pregnant and still needed birth control because so many women had bought into the hype and were turning up at their doctors stunned and horrified because they assumed their ovaries had shriveled and weren’t at all prepared for the irregularity to be pregnancy, not menopause.
Which is my long-winded way of saying, ignore the stupid hype and be happy with your choices, because I absolutely believe they’re the right choices for you.
Happy 35th Birthday, Beckysharper! And Happy Birthday to PhDork and Dude, SarahMC, and PilgrimSoul!
I take inspiration from my mom who has embraced aging the way our society allows men to embrace it. When she hit 60, she considered getting a new degree from Princeton. She just past 65 and is making huge, exciting changes (retiring from a job she does not love and considering other professional opportunities). She views 65 as just another year to explore and enjoy her life.
Ooh … you’re .5 years too young to date me, according to the Half Your Age Plus 7 Rule. But, hey, the Wikipedia is dropping it … so one more chance for fun, fun, fun !!!!
In other words, happy birthday, and I hope your friends come up with funnier stuff to entertain you.
Happy birthday!
@AvOgadro: LOL re the birth control campaign for us late 30′s-early 40′s folks. It made me realize that I’ve never once gotten the “OMG your ovaries are drying up have babies now” speech from my OB/GYN, just the “Make sure you use birth control” speech.
Happy Birthday!
And don’t let the bastards get you down – it’s hard to totally resist all the negative message that come one’s way in our society, but from what you’ve written here, it sounds like you have accomplished an awful lot in your 35 years – professional success, good friendships, good relationships… Not to mention that you’re an excellent writer for an excellent blog!
So I would say there is plenty to celebrate. (*pours virtual champagne*)
Yeah, I’m also turning 35 in a few days. I think my melancholy has more to do with my father’s recent passing than with being single and childless. Oh well…
I’m so sorry for your loss, ceejeemcbeegee. It’s been a little over four years since I lost my father, and it took me a long time to stop feeling resentful that I lost him so young. Of course, people lose parents much earlier, but it seemed so unfair that he was gone before I had a chance to have kids or feel like I was totally a grownup. I can’t tell you you’ll get over it, but once the pain and melancholy have time to get familiar, it won’t seem so unthinkably awful.
Ceejee, I hope you and your mom have a wonderful day together and remember all the good times you had with your dad. I know he was SO proud of you!
Happy Birthday Becky Sharper! You are fabulous.
Happy birthday, my love. I admire you so much and envy you for your worldliness and all you’ve accomplished.
As Becky pointed out, tomorrow is my birthday. I’m turning 28 and I have to admit I am feeling melancholy. I thought I’d have two pennies to rub together by this point in my life! And, despite the fact that I am not certain I want children, I can see “advanced maternal age” on the horizon and worry that time is slipping away.
It’s compounded by the fact that I have a chronic medical issue that I can’t imagine would be compatible with pregnancy anyway. So even though I don’t want a kid now (maybe ever), I’d like to at least feel like I could if I wanted to, y’know?
Anyway, I hope your day has been glorious and happy mothers day to all our mamas reading!
I distinctly remember the day I turned 35. I did feel strangely weird and depressed. I’d already had two children and always enjoyed my previous birthdays. I’d read (somewhere) that Calvin Klein didn’t bother designing for women over 35.
But then I thought, “What the hell! Who gives a flying f#@k…I’ve never even worn contemporary ‘designer’ clothes – I’ve always preferred vintage!”, and got over it completely by the end of the day.
I’m now 47. I absolutely love getting older. Honestly. Less pressure to conform. More freedom to be myself.
Happy Birthday BSharper!
Happy birthday, Becky, and happy almost birthday, Sarah! Let’s continue to fight these BS deadlines!
Happy Birthday! And screw deadlines — you know you’re getting more interesting year by year, and that’s all that matters!
Happy birthday, everyone! On the “advanced maternal age” thing: don’t let the medical phrasing get you down. I messed up my back a while ago, and my doctor said it was normal for my spine to begin deteriorating at my age. I was 26! Sometimes the medical POV has little to do with real life. And in practice, I think “advanced maternal age” just means you get an extra test or two during pregnancy.
Here’s a secret They don’t want you to know: it just keeps getting better.
At close to 60, with no spouse or significant other, no kids, and some health issues that keep me on a pretty short leash, I’m more content than at any earlier age. It’s possible to be deliciously happy without all those things They want you to believe you need. Just being conscious is a hoot.
And I’m especially loving the “invisibility” of being older–tastes like freedom to me.
Happy birthday, and many happy returns!
Hmmm. Like a poster above, I passed 35 pretty much without noticing. But I turned 39 this year and things are different. When I tell people my age they either try to reassure me that I “can’t possibly be 39, you can’t be that old” or receive remarks on how nice it is to be 39 forever.
Of course, I have no kids and no plans to have kids, and I’m fortunate that there is no pressure on me to be married or have children from my family (beyond mentions of schoolmates who are married and/or procreating), even as the oldest child/daughter. I think it may be due to the huge size of my family – some of my younger brothers have started having kids, so the grandchildren requirement has been fulfilled.
If I remember correctly the whole issue with 35 was that it was the age when statistically the risks associated with amniocentesis was less than the risk of birth defects. Younger than 35, the risks associated with the test were greater than the probability of any birth defect.
In other words, it was an arbitrary cross-over point and is probably not even accurate anymore since I would hope the risks associated with the tests have been improved. I’m not at all surprised that this little medical data point has gotten enshrined into our culture as the “drop-dead date” for motherhood since we all know that anything that furthers the narrative that women lose value as they age is considered “the way the world is”.
Happy birthdays Harpies!
Happy Late Birthday from 58, adopted at 47, and laughing in the face of my 11 year old who thinks I need to “date.” Honestly! You are my PB#1 and when you hit my age you will look around you and be so glad you are who you are and didn’t listen to all that “advice” from the relatives. (And I seriously hope on our side of the family I at least paved the way for you!) XXX000