Turning The ‘Big’ Two Five
Oh god, it’s that time again, a birthday! Noo!
Don’t worry, I’m not a party pooper by any means, hey I love a good cocktail party! Plus, racking up the notifications on social media and getting all the attention IRL is a right ego booster. Still though, I’d rather just be a teenager please.
I know how it is, no matter how much older you get, if you hear someone younger than you complain about ‘getting old’, you’re going to roll your eyes. I’m by no means saying anyone above a quarter century is ancient, quite the opposite in fact. I’m always telling my friends and colleagues that 34 is NOT old and that they can bloody well do anything they want to, their way, without silly rules and expectations. That’s how I’m trying to live anyway!
Those silly social expectations are exactly what makes moving into a new age bracket scary. In between silly snapchats of pre-slap ‘I woke up like this’s, creep in fancy brunches with talks surrounding topics such as ‘probably needing to save for a house’ (scary), marriage (even scarier) and soon… I can’t… even… BABIES (pass the bucket.)
OK hold up a minute, what the hell is going on here?! I’ve only just done my final IKEA trip to deck-out my shared rented pad, I was pretty cushy in my straight-out-of-uni job and all my friends know that I hate children right now. (Sorry.)
If I have another birthday, does that mean I’m suddenly going to wake up wishing I was preggers and deciding that bright colours are garish? Please god don’t let that happen.
For me, turning twenty-five doesn’t just mean another candle on my Colin the caterpillar cake. This time, life has decided to go and bowl a curve-ball right into my career path. Sadly the site I used to make edits for and Photoshop my heart out on has closed, so suddenly here I am expected to find another job. oh.
A blessing in disguise perhaps as I’ve now decided to bulk up my portfolio and give freelancing another shot. (Hey, if you’re looking for a photographer/art director/social/fashion all-rounder do gimme a call!)
Daddy, I Want a Pony, and Computer, and and…
So I’m going to need to make money. Hmm. Then there’s travelling, I want to do more, I want to go to Australia, can I afford it now I don’t have regular income? But then I won’t have to take time off work, is that stupid? I want to see more of the world. Who am I? I need a batter camera, more lenses, a better laptop, a house deposit (apparently) and then there’s all the HMRC malarkey to sort out, my pension, Jesus what about that tattoo (that’s going on hold.) Can I even live? Eep!
OK 25, you’re clearly going to be quite a ride. PANIC! I prescribe a holiday (on one as I write, check Instagram,) then I need to sort my life out a bit. I need to prioritise, plan and predict. Maybe this birthday thing has come at a good time, maybe it’s time to have a good think. Hell, maybe 25 could actually be the best year yet!
What do you think? Do birthdays scare you? Are you still 12 at heart? Tweet me or leave a comment below!
What I Wore at 25