One month from today I will be 25. Twenty five. A quarter of a century.
If you were to ask me 10 years ago what my life at 25 would be like, I am 150% certain my answers wouldn’t come remotely close to mirroring reality. Ten years ago I wanted to move to New York City, work in fashion and live in an apartment that I most definitely could not afford given my fifteen-year-old expensive tastes and out of touch thinking regarding budgets, bills, and paychecks.
At 15, 25 seemed like finite adulthood; I’d be married with plans to have my first child at 27 and second by 30. Twenty five was a bright, distant future that I couldn’t wait to get to. I knew with every fiber of my being all my dreams would have come true. Twenty five meant I would have everything I ever wanted.
Boy, could I have not been more wrong.
In reality, 25 doesn’t look anything like the picture I painted for myself 10 years ago. At 25, I live in Baltimore with a strictly platonic roommate. I don’t work in fashion, I work in marketing for a commercial real estate firm. I’m not married nor do I have kids or plans for children in my immediate future. Quite frankly, I am no where near being ready to make that kind of life change.
I may not consider myself an adult, but I am proud of the fact I pay my own bills and I am well on my way to establishing a great career. My friends may not be large in quantity, but quality wise they are some of the best friends a girl could ask for. My roommate may be a strictly platonic roommate, but I wouldn’t want to live with anyone else.
Lately I have been dreading my birthday more than usual, but if I think about it, I’m not entirely sure why. I already feel older than 25 sometimes, and 25 (despite all my dramatic protests about being one step away from menopause) really isn’t old at all. It’s still the beginning.
I think my problem isn’t that I don’t want to turn 25, it’s that I don’t want to say goodbye to the 24-year-old me. Twenty four has been one of the best years of my life.
Twenty four has lead me to some amazing people, places and memories. I have never had a better birthday than my 24th (it was at a winery after all.) I have never laughed harder, worked better or owned a seriously amazing boot collection than during year 24. After 23 was such a clusterfuck, I am not ready to let go of what has truly been the best year of my life.
If I could freeze time at 24, I would. Maybe. But then again, 25 can and probably will be even better, and it’s going to get here whether or not I like it. So I better buckle up, enjoy my last month of 24-hood and get ready for all 25 has in store.
I’m definitely ready. I think.