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Fifteen years ago, Glamour published a list of distinctive yet universally true must-haves and must-knows for women on the cusp of and beyond the age of thirty titled, "30 Things Every Woman Should Have and ...
Fifteen years ago, Glamour published a list of distinctive yet universally true must-haves and must-knows for women on the cusp of and beyond the age of thirty titled, "30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She's 30." It became a phenomenon. Originally penned by Glamour columnist Pamela Redmond Satran, The List found a second life when women began to forward it to one another online, millions of times. It became a viral sensation, misattributed to everyone from Maya Angelou to Hillary Clinton--but there's only one original list, and it stands the test of time. Quirky and profound, The List defines the absolute must-haves (#11: "A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra") and must-knows (#1: "How to fall in love without losing yourself") for grown-up female happiness.
Now, Glamour magazine has gathered together its editors and an incredible group of notable women to expand on each of the items on The List in wise, thoughtful, and intimate essays. Kathy Griffin meditates on knowing when to try harder and when to walk away. Lisa Ling explores the idea that your childhood may not have been perfect, but it's over, and Lauren Conrad shares what she has learned about what she would and wouldn't do for money or love. Other personal insights come from Maya Angelou, Rachel Zoe, Taylor Swift, Katie Couric, Portia de Rossi, Kelly Corrigan, ZZ Packer, Bobbi Brown, Padma Lakshmi, Angie Harmon, and many more.
Along with essays based on The List, writers share their feelings about what the milestone of turning thirty meant to them. 30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She's 30 is the one book women of all ages will turn to for timely and timeless wisdom.
BY GENEVIEVE FIELD
I'm about to make a big promise: This item, the very first on The List, can bring you lasting happiness in love, and self-acceptance, too.
Of course, I only know so in retrospect, which is too bad because I really could've used a little love wisdom back in 2001, when I was thirty-one and guiltily wearing a diamond-studded platinum engagement ring I feared I didn't deserve. I was tortured about love back then, in part because of my rocky romantic history; if you'd told me then that that history had made me a better person, not a less love-worthy one, I'd have told you to have another drink.
I'd been in a couple healthy relationships, sure. There was even a high school sweetheart I sometimes thought of as my Mr. Almost—a lanky, towheaded basketball player I could've ended up marrying in an alternate universe where only his kindness and hotness and devotion to me (not his political views, antithetical to mine) mattered. But since then I'd had high-drama and often misguided relationships, and now I was having real doubts that I could be the happily-ever-after bride my fiancé, Ted, saw in me.
It wasn't that I was having doubts about him. I was crazy about Ted, had fought off a bunch of art-school babes for him. After all, he was funny, sensitive, wildly creative, and he had the softest brown-eyed gaze I'd ever stared into. So yes, I longed to start a life with this man and, yes, to have his babies. And yet lately I'd been staying up later than him, sometimes hours later, lying in the dark on the sofa in our tiny apartment, watching the shadows of a gingko tree flutter on our white brick walls. I told myself it wasn't getting married I was worried about; it was everything else. It had been an epic year. I'd quit (with a fair share of attitude and no parachute) a big-deal job at a business I'd cofounded with my now ex; I'd had a cancer scare and contemplated my own mortality for the first time; the World Trade Center had been attacked (and was still smoldering less than a mile away from our home); and I was planning my wedding.
"Genny, come to bed!" Ted would whisper from the other side of the bookshelf that separated our "bedroom" from our "living room." And I would. And he would take off my tank top and press his beating heart against mine and I would feel better—until about 3 a.m., that is, when I'd awaken from some apocalyptic dream in a clammy sweat, thinking those thoughts again: What if I can't control the future of my marriage any more than I can control the future of this planet? What if I have a midlife crisis and cheat on Ted the way Married cheated on his wife—with me?
Oh, let me tell you about Married. He's my version of The List's "one who reminds you of how far you've come." He'd been out of my life for eight years by the time I got engaged (I'd been in college when we had whatever it was we had), but he'd been weighing heavily on my mind ever since Ted and I decided to marry. God, in school I'd been obsessed with him—this married older man who acted anything but married. He said his wife had fallen out of love with him and was probably seeing someone else too. I accepted this justification unquestioningly, then split ways with my disapproving roommates and rented my own place so I could be alone with him every opportunity we, or rather he, got. He would only come after dark, hiding his motorcycle in the bamboo thicket outside my fence and glancing over his shoulder as he crossed my threshold. (Did I hate the secrecy or thrive on it? I think both. Isn't it always both?) He delivered his kisses like drugs, and I accepted them, swam in their chemical glow. It was only when he wasn't there that I thought about his wife. Where was my conscience as we sped through the rain on that bike, laughing? Where was my self-respect when I snapped at him to "stay with me tonight!"? Could I lose my bearings so easily again?
One evening, about a month before my wedding, I sat down with a new but close friend, Ashley, and recounted this ignoble chapter in my life: my inability to stop myself, Married's many lies, his wife's pain when she learned the truth. "Can I do this?" I asked Ash. "Can I be trusted with Ted's heart when I've been such a shit?"
My wise-beyond-her-years friend then said something I've never forgotten: "You can't change your past, but you can change your mind about your past."
Excerpted from 30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She's 30 by Pamela Redmond Satran Copyright © 2012 by Condé Nast. Excerpted by permission of Hyperion. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Posted March 12, 2013
Posted October 12, 2012
I purchased this as a gift for my 29 year old grand-daughter and told her she had a year :) She has loved the book, unable to put it down. She said she reccomends it to all her friends from 28 to 32.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 22, 2012
Loved the book! Great advice and great stories for women of all ages. I will be buying more of these as gifts for friends!Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 9, 2012
I really love this book, it's very uplifting and inspirational. The small size of the book allows you to fit it into even the tiniest of handbags. I will recommend this for a birthday gift or just as a gift to yourself.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted May 1, 2012
Posted April 26, 2012
Why on the cover does Lauren Conrad get 2nd billing after Maya Angelou? If she's in the book I'm not saying she doesn't deserve billing but the order seems off... Haven't read it yet - received it as a gift
0 out of 6 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted May 10, 2012
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Posted May 25, 2012
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