The book in my hands is one of the worst written, grammatically appalling, contradicting content filled books ever... It also happens to be written by me, over a space of 7 years.
This is the year I turn 30 which is something that has been freaking me out for a while. I know 30 is far from old but it also seems like a massive jump to me. I don't really know why, it just does. .
If you follow me on instagram you will know I have been a moping mess for the last few days, suffering from a hideous flu and the highs and lows that come from paracetamol and caffeine. One particularly bad night I was wide awake for 5 hours straight. Tossing and turning trying to find sleep wore thin after 3 hours so I reluctantly went through my bedside table drawers to find a book to read only to discover my teenage diary. I started writing in this book in 1998, it is a full on car crash of cringe worthy declarations and a few photos of ex boyfriends complete with rage drawn felt tip devil horns and mustaches which managed to make me smile at 4am. The running theme was how excited I was to fall in love and as the diary progressed I claimed to fall in and out of love a lot, teenage Shaneen had the ability to fall in love with a lamp post and then hate it 20 seconds later. What it bought home to me is that even though turning 30 scares me a little, going back to those day would scare me a hell of a lot more. I'm not sure if it was just me as a teenager or a girl thing but the level of hormonal outbursts were kind of scary.
Maybe holding on to this book will come in handy in the future too, when I have teenagers of my own. I will be able to read it and remember just how intensley I felt everything and how quickly my mood could change... and how quickly I came out of the other side, relitively calmer.
So, 30, I guess I'm ready for you... please don't bring me crows feet!