Today I woke up with the sad realization that I’m not 21 anymore. I mean I know how old I am, I’m not that old for christ sakes, but I really still had this feeling that I was a young 20-something with a hot-bod and all the time in the world to make mistakes and bear little or no consequence at all. Where has all the time gone?
I’ve reached the point where I realize that shopping at Forever 21 really should be reserved for those under 20. I even catch myself looking at 21 year olds thinking how can they leave the house like that? Why, they’re practically naked! Then I remember my drawer of crop tops and mini skirts I proudly flaunted in college but wouldn’t be caught dead in now. When did I go from the free-spirited college girl who could go out all night and then wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and head to my 8am class? If I went out like I did back then now I would need an IV and oxygen just to make it down the stairs in the morning. Why didn’t anyone warn me about this?
When I was 16 and thought about what I would be doing at 26 it seems so far away and 26 seemed so old. It seemed so serious. So grown up. I’m nowhere near as settled as I thought I’d be. In fact, I’m even less sure of what I want to do now than I was at 16. I’m not sure, but I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work.
So now I know I’m not a young 20-something but I’m nowhere near ready to don the mom jeans and join the PTA.
Whats’s a 26-year-old girl, well woman, to do?
Maybe it’s time to embrace 26. It’s not so bad after all. I no longer let the opinions and judgement of my friends rule every decision I make, I am much more sure of who I am and am even starting to like myself a bit and I have an amazing boyfriend who is the type of man I didn’t even know existed a few years ago.
So I may not be able to party like its 1999 (or 2004) but I’m heading full speed ahead into a beautiful new stage of my life and I have to say, I’m pretty happy about that.