Is Turning 30 A Multi-Level Marketing Scheme?
By Lanji
In one word, the expectation of 30 spells out; stability.
Turning 30 has been the most enticing multi-level marketing scheme yet, during the novel Covid-19 pandemic. Darling, a Ponzi scheme. What other synonyms describe the rosy illusion of a politically correct term for “pyramid scheme”? Four words, “welcome to third floor!“ An introduction statement which automatically created the illusion of 3rd floor’s life of bliss.
The moment you believe you’re experiencing change whether or not you’re still the same old you. Jennifer Garner’s character as Jenna Rink in “13 going on 30” convinced us (90s kids probably) it was the age we would magically transform and be thirty and flirty. Successful with an apartment in Manhattan, well in Kenya’s context maybe Lavington.

At 30 we hope we don’t double text the guy from the awkward but promising date, we hope we won’t call him after the blue tick, or worse yet…. we won’t jump out of character the minute he double grey ticks the WhatsApp message. We imagine it’s the era we learn all we need to know about love, life, career and friendship. With the signature pyramid scheme catchphrase, “welcome to 3rd Floor” …
By the time you clock 30, you’ve either read “The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F$%#” by Mark Manson & if you’re not a reader, you at least alluded to having read it by posting your neighbour’s unread copy with the hashtag #SoRaw! From the minute the clock strikes midnight and it’s on record we are now 30, we hope we will miraculously stop caring or dealing with nonsense. Lousy jobs, even lousier interactions & relationships and engaging with cavalier blokes who can’t answer simple questions such as “what are we?”
I’m here now and my rude awakening is this location, 3rd floor doesn’t switch the game automatically, without doing the inner work. It’s all hype. It’s not an airport where I could simply “land” and be at my new destination. It’s a destination you arrive at philosophically but only physically arrive at after having understood the assignment and done the work.
At 30, you’re still receiving the childish texts confirming “if you knew what was said about so and so.” Your landlord is still childish and can only receive rent on the 1st or 2ndof the month whether you’re ready or not. You’re saved Aunty hasn’t forgotten you drink, so “hutapata bwana hii Nairobi”. Your mother hasn’t left the question “when are you bringing us grandchildren?” Your bossy relative’s unsolicited advice on why “giving birth & finishing early is best.” But I ask, best for who?

At 30 we begin to imagine our overaged startups will begin to experience growing pains, to evolve into fully-fledged corporate businesses. We imagine it’s the period we won’t “digest” profits to finance debauchery without contemplating expansion and investments.
During my 30 days to 30 challenge, I vaguely scribbled down areas I would focus on preparing for my first 360 days (not counted as 365 as I anticipate 3 to 5 meltdowns during the process). At the number 5 was “health & wellness” ...with a bracket beside it including (mental health). Quite specific. 30 days to 30.
As I scribbled using my pink felt-tip pen, I knew this was one of those lists which would require mandatory non-fulfillment. Indeed, I later forgot about it and found my partner using it as a rough paper to jot a new passcode from our internet service provider. He jotted right on top of number 29; boundaries. It clearly wasn’t going to come to fruition because look, even the almost final 30 challenge did not maintain my aspiration for a life with “boundaries.”

On my 2nd day of my 30s, I pulled out the sneakers, charged the headsets & clicked my ungovernable Drake playlist titled “moving mad” but obviously wasn’t moving mad at all. My little jog down the stairs from my apartment to begin with was so telling. As I playfully pretended to twerk on my way out, my knee clicked, the click sound from one of those freebie medical biro pens. My bend was indistinguishable to a scene from a “Madea Cookout” spinoff.
The last time I spent my coins on a gym membership subscription was probably in 2018. Eating well, only seems like a choice when the soles of my feet land on the weighing scale, because food is fun. Food is life. Food is a hobby. Food is mushrooms. Food is cheese. Food is cheese, mushrooms, fish and my extensive endless list of items.
With age comes a body that can’t handle the back-to-back nights out without 3 to 5 working weeks of recovery and self-judgement. With age we understand why it’s no longer enough to jot down your health resolutions. It’s no longer enough to procrastinate the day you’ll finally exercise effectively enough to break a sweat. With age we learn that contrary to what we heard; black does crack.

With age, I have committed myself to an exciting journey of personal Tizi Talks. The gradual steps to a cleaner life. A more balanced lifestyle. Health inside and outside. From what I digest, to who I interact with. So, this isn’t a blogpost to give you a blueprint on wellness, it’s a proposal to the founder of Tizi Talks; Loise Machira, to engage us and reply to my article with a blueprint on how to channel our thriving, dirty thirties. A proposal she will probably be surprised by. My request isn’t scripted. We each have really good intentions and bad habits.
So, my request to Tizi Talks; guide us through a brief series of our holistic rebirth at 30. Economic rebirth, spiritual rebirth, social rebirth, emotional rebirth & health & wellness rebirth. Once we complete the 5-part series, I hope we can engage socially with a few of the readers & guest writers such as myself, who are ready to dive into this one and have a candid chat! Let’s not just land at 30 with rickety knees (not mine, why would you think that... what are you implying ha-ha?) Let’s gracefully land philosophically and physically!
Welcome to the 30s Tizi Club! Happy 30’ing …
Yours in Wellness @TiziTalks
Credits
Guest Writer: Lanji
Images: Lanji, Strikingly, Pexels, Hass Consultants

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