These days pretty much every dialogue with my mother ends up in this persistent, insistent and extremely consistent advice “Have a baby”. This is how most of our conversations go..
Me: “Mom, I am quite enjoying this break”
Mom “what break ..shake, Have a baby now”
Me: “The weather is so good, spring is finally here”
Mom: “weather.. sheather I don’t care, have a baby”
Sometimes I wonder if we were still using trunk calls like the good old days, would my mother book a call everyday just to say “Hello, Have a baby, okay bye”. Or send me such cost effective telegrams: “Hi. 33 now. Have a Baby. Don’t b stupid”!! Anyhow, this is not just about my mother or my bio clock. It’s about Rani pink and what she had to say about these constant references to my age that led me into a spiral of thinking, yet again.
Although I haven’t met Rani Pink after that lunch of revelations but somewhere I have come to name my alter ego, Rani Pink. She was so honest and spontaneous with her thoughts that having her as a sounding board helps when I need a fresh perspective. (For those of you who don’t know Rani Pink, please find the pleasure of knowing her here).
(I wonder if Rani Pink were to read this, would she charge me for all the self-help and introspection that is her gift to me!?)
After so many “Have a baby” calls, I had to abbreviate the slogan to “HAB” to save time and sanity (and imaginary telegram costs). My mother thought I was mocking her and played the age card again “You are not 23 anymore, you are 33”. Silence, a loud bang and silence again.
While I didn’t have much to say to my mother, Rani Pink slam dunked the conversation with this statement and a whole lot of pink. “Nonsense, thirty three is the new twenty three and you don’t look a day older than ……” and there was silence again. Her honesty and spontaneity were in a conflict, and after a long pause they settled for twenty five, “you don’t look a day older than 25”.
So just like that, Rani Pink once again said her piece and a think tank was formed comprising of I, Me and Myself. She doesn’t participate in dialogues so I couldn’t ask her if it really was about how old or young I look!? It’s more about age measured in terms of human life years and not in terms of Bobbi Brown, contouring and other cosmetic wonders. Nonetheless somewhere she probably revealed a little more than what she said. Maybe progression and acceptance of age and the agendas that come with it initiate a yearning to go back in time, to do, undo, redo the done and dusted. Cleary I must have some aspirations to revisit my twenty something days if I am not signing up for the HAB propaganda!?
So, I brought the compulsive list making freak that is me, to the think tank. While Rani Pink did her shrink rounds elsewhere, I thought hard about regression and sat down with the twenty five and still five feet something myself. As we discussed, argued and compared notes I realized that I did miss my early twenties. Those cramped living spaces where many a microwaves blew, concessional university bars, part time jobs and the first pay cheque. The quest of finding true love, dreams to travel and the ecstasy when one could do it on a budget. Best friends and new friends, sleep-eat-party and repeat weekends, all of it was legendary!!
But the joy of dreaming, struggling, achieving from the twenties is so strong that it transcends into the thirties and it manifests into different dreams. Dreams that wouldn’t stem if we froze time or denied it. If we carry that joy with us and multiply it then who wants to feel or look less than what they are in any dimension?
It’s the thirty something or forty something or fifty something dreams that should be flexible enough to accommodate a HAB or delay a HAB or not HAB!! Although, sometimes I do wish I had the metabolism of a twenty five year old but other than that there is no such desire for time travel. On our time that runs on a parallel plane to all kinds of ticking clocks we will do what is right for us and they will record it well.
…but let’s just say if size zero came on a platter and said “let’s give you this fabulous body, the metabolism of your skinny friend and add a few inches of vertical glory to your five feet self. All of this in exchange for just a day in your garden with Jozi, a wine refill with Mr.Tall, a crazy conversation with your old and new bffs and your shoes…. particularly the Choos…
I would have to let Rani Pink reply to this,
“No thank you, thirty three and all that it comes with, works just fine!! While we are at it let me tell you she looks thirty (twenty five was just to get her off my back). There is nothing that she needs to go back to twenty five for, it’s all right here, right now. HAB or Don’t HAB, thirty three is the new thirty three”.