It’s Official. I’m a Quarter Century Old.
Birthdays are truly exhausting. Between planning a semi-forgettable birthday party, embarking on a quarter-life crisis and decoding “happy bday” Facebook wall posts, I’m ready to read my new issue of Prevention magazine and call it a night. Or I guess what I’m trying to say is that despite having 221 Twitter followers, I did not get 221 gifts delivered to my door. I mean, what’s the point of opening your heart to strangers, if it’s not going to be filled with mid-sized, mid-price-range gifts!?! Am I right or am I right (or am I completely missing the point of social media. Let me know ASAP because I just posted my full address and Bat Mitzah Torah portion on Pinterest).
So yes, today I turned 25. Which is hard to believe since it feels like just yesterday when I was rudely awakened by a large pair of forceps and a rubber-gloved hand. It’s also hard to believe that particular memory happened once at birth and once again at a house party in college.
Last year when I turned 24 (sorry to reiterate my age, I just wanted to make it clear to all the Benjamin Button fetishists reading this that I age forward, not backward), I made a vow to get my life in order before I turned a quarter-century old. Please note, this vow is COMPLETELY unrelated to the one Channing Tatum made.
I decided to go to therapy to cure all my growing-up-white-and-upper-middle-class problems. I decided to apply for a credit card so I could build my credit and one day buy a house or a horse (the one letter difference between those two words is the difference between two completely different worlds). I decided to join online dating so that I would learn the difference between love, lust and serial killer eyes. And finally I decided to go on a life changing journey around the world where I could eat, pray and love my way to clarity. Then I realized that was already a best-selling book and a good-movie-to-see-with-your-Mom and instead decided to starve, hate and VooDoo.
Book title copyright issues aside, I can’t believe I’m actually 25. I’m a real adult with a real life. I mean, by this time next year I could be married with kids and a house. Or a horse. Or maybe…just maybe even both.