2 days, 15 hours, and somewhere around 3 minutes until my 25th birthday. Do you know what happens on my 25th birthday? I grow up. I become more responsible; money is deducted weekly into my savings account, I start worrying more about my 401K, I think twice before I buy that third new pair of shoes…I become more mature. I select floral patterns and muted colors rather than hot pink for my curtains. I buy practical heels for work… I become more reserved; I start to think more about how I dress for work, how people view me, what my superiors think of my work… I become more goal-oriented; I plan to meet the right man and get married, I plan to arrange my career so that I can hit a certain point before I want to start having a family, I consider whether I will want a four-door automobile in the sooner than later future.
These are not fears of mine, not mere anxiety driven nightmares that cause me to awake drenched in a sticky sweat, but actual, factual changes that are taking place and will peak on my 25th birthday. On that day I consider myself an adult. I do not know if the 25th birthday is that case for everyone, and I assume otherwise especially considering that the average 25 year old male would consider nothing other than a beer mug from college and plastic utensils to be necessary kitchenware. (My 25 year old boyfriend was unaware that he owned a spatula until I made him pancakes…I rest my case.) However, that is always how I thought of this particular birthday.
I love my birthdays - I announce them to everyone. I have gone so far as to make t-shirts, or at least I tried to when my boyfriend stopped me. I count down the days and minutes until the exact moment in time that I believe is the anniversary of my birth. I sing, I dance, I yell, and most importantly I drink to celebrate. I always look forward to making elaborate plans. This year however, I just want a quiet dinner, I would like to have dinner with my parents and my brother since he will be home. I want to have dinner with my boyfriend. I am looking forward to dinner with my old college roommate. I seem to be planning on eating quite a bit – and drinking as well. I may be getting older but I am just getting past that stage where you still get ID’d. But the idea of going out to a club with my 30 closest friends and having everyone buy me shots until I wake up with my head in a toilet discreetly attempting to eliminate whatever I inserted into my stomach that unfortunate day, is not in my plans. You see, it is happening. I am growing up...