Confessions of a 30-year-old grandma

These days, I don't bother racking my brains much. When it comes to even drafting an online complaint about a botched service, I let Generative AI do the heavy lifting. My energy, instead, is wholeheartedly focused on filling my virtual cart before hitting "order" on the grocery app. The last thing I need is another delivery fee, thanks to forgotten ingredients!

It feels like a distant dream now, the freedom to spin words and create something from scratch, without the incessant buzz of pending chores or ticking deadlines. The last time I attempted to write, I remember locking the door and plastering a "Do Not Disturb" label on it. That's the level of focus I need these days. Also, this might sound odd, but while I value staying in touch with people, the mere thought of phone calls sets my nerves on edge. When I dial back, I desperately hope they don't pick up.

Music, parties, or booze? Sounds like a recipe for bliss, right? Not in my case. At the first whiff of any fun, my delightful body throws me a symphony of acidity, constipation, or a throbbing migraine. Or, the slightest twist and turn, and boom! There's a fresh instance of body aches to add to the collection. Maybe someday I'll unlock the secret energy reserve of fitness freaks. For now, just the thought of a workout leaves me terrified.

Every young person I meet feels like a generation apart. Parents expect me to mentor their kids and guide them on the right path when I can barely stick to a bedtime routine myself!

As much as I like my quiet space, a juicy piece of gossip still holds a certain allure. I've even caught myself thinking like those nosy aunties I once loved to eye-roll at. And sometimes I'm the morality police in my own head. It's not a pretty picture, you see.

Remember those snippets I used to scribble a couple of years back about eternal longing? Today, my soul longs for dirt-free surfaces. My current drama these days isn't unrequited love, but convincing my husband today's his turn to cook.

So yeah, you might find me a little…uneventful these days, but that's okay. This thinning hair, expanding waistline, and less-than-vibrant skin – they're all part of the new me, and I own it. No scaling mountains here, just conquering the daily Everest of a stubborn ketchup stain on the table mat, armed with nothing but a toothbrush. My victories are quieter, found in the crispness of freshly laundered sheets and the perfect, just-right cup of tea or a dessert. 

Writer's block? Maybe I'll slay that too one day, or maybe not. Or maybe I'll just order something on Swiggy or Zomato and curl up with baby panda videos, because hey, this messy, imperfect life is mine, and I'm learning to love it, for what it is.