So in just five teeny tiny days time I’ll be turning a quarter of a century. Yep, twenty flippin’ five. How exactly has that happened? This, among other things, have been crossing my mind as this mini milestone has leered over my shoulder for the past few weeks, so I thought I’d condense them down to an appropriate 25 strong listical, cos, y’know, content.
- I’m starting to wonder if we’re now too old to still classify people into what year group they were in at school.
- I’ve seriously considered spending about $50 on a single candle, which is a sure indication of my progression to being stereotypically middle aged.
- I also now apparently give two shits about the thread count of my bed sheets.
- Instead of spending our money on gallivanting round hotels and restaurants, Jess and I now lust after couches, flatpack furniture and Le Creuset cast iron cook pots.
- People are beginning to ask me what my “partner’s” name is. So I’m either old and/or they think I could possibly be a lesbian. (Though the fun part is when I say his name is Jess. They must get their mind absolutely blown).
- I’m actually giving people younger than me advice. And they’re taking it.
- I’ve got a plethora friends’ of hen parties and weddings in my calendar.
- Turning 25 does now mean that I’ve made it 25 whole years without ever squeezing a spot.
- I’ve also learned that people instantly despise you when you say this to them.
- I’m wondering what the next form I fill in will be, and shuddering a little at the thought of ticking the 25-29 box.
- I’m feeling incredibly equipped for when I receive my ‘invitation’ to my first smear test, as I’ve already had one and am looking forward to explaining this to the clamp-bearing nurse.
- A small part of my soul dies every time one of my friends buys a house.
- My body has started actually needing herbal tea to function.
- The other day I got heartburn for the first time.
- I think at 25 I’ll have inched into the next age category in terms of breast cancer prevalence so there’s a little nugget of joy for my anxiety.
- People no longer seem to give me a judgey look when I buy pregnancy tests even though in my head I still feel like the stick is basically my audition for a potential appearance on Teen Mom. (FYI I only buy prego tests because I’m super paranoid and check every month just to be sure, not because I’m an idiot that still thinks risking it is cool.)
- If I don’t get enough water for like half a day, I seriously wilt like a flower.
- It’s becoming harrowingly apparent how far away I am from being the subject of Taylor Swift’s song 22.
- Apparently my body can no longer handle the ‘warm up’ cider I used to chug before a night out sponsored by heavy spirits. Mixing drinks ain’t cool no more, says my ever-aging liver.
- Chunders are no longer ‘tactical’.
- White bread consumption is now a one way ticket to guaranteed bloat.
- An exciting week is dictated by things like new accounting software to manage my invoicing.
- An intense and wrenching wave of nausea consumes me when I so much as think back to how I handled going out so much at uni.
- Things that I thought I’d know by now are still utter mysteries to me. This week I witnessed a conversation that I think was about some form of political unrest in Japan, and I’m ashamed to admit I had literally zero clue what they were talking about, and I just sat there wondering where they ever learned about this stuff.
- Everything we want to do is dictated by the two words I hate the most. ANNUAL EFFING LEAVE.
So that’s that. Here’s to another year of me spoiling you with perfectly pointless lists of shit that you probably didn’t want to know.
Over and out,