Twenty Seven



Well hello late twenties. At least, I think it’s late twenties. Twenty seven is surely no longer mid-twenties right?

I’m sat in a cafe, with one eye on my uneaten muffin and Ed Sheeran in my ears. Not literally… that would be really weird. I figure now is as good a time as any to have a little reflection on turning 27.

To tell you the truth, 27 crept up on me a bit. I have been super busy and super distracted and then suddenly, woah it’s February 2019 and apart from making a few plans for the actual day (which included seeing The Lion King at the theatre finally) I haven’t given turning 27 much thought.

And tbh, it’s not like it’s a ‘big birthday’ so it’s relatively easy to let pass without too big a fuss. But when I actually digested that I was about to turn 27 the other day, I did do a minor double take.

Mostly because, for a long time, 27 was the age I thought was a good age to have my first baby. Sure, that’s no longer the case but WOAH, I have now hit the age that my teenage-self considered mature enough and far enough away that she could say, with total confidence, that that was the age her future self would reproduce. When I mentioned this to G, he noted that whilst I might not reproduce this year, 27 will be the age I become a married (likely) homeowner (hopefully).

And this bemuses me. Somewhere along the way, I’ve taken a lil hop, skip & jump from boozy student to lost graduate to a functioning adult with a wedding mere weeks away and rightmove bookmarked on her laptop.

And yes, a part of me does feel a little bit like BUT WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN EXACTLY. Cos, well, it has gone fast. I am utterly bewildered that it has been nearly NINE years since I went to university. They say time speeds up as you get older so I can only imagine your 60s last about 30 seconds.

And yes, another part of me – briefly – thought SHOULD I HAVE DONE MORE BY NOW?! Have a missed opportunities to do things one should do in their twenties?! I don’t really know what these things are by the way, but apparently I’m worrying about them anyway. Backpacking? More clubbing? More dating? And then, lol, G pointed out that I wouldn’t enjoy backpacking (more of a suitcase gal), hate clubbing and that the dating opportunities have well and truly left the building. So I lay back down on the sofa and carried on playing with my birthday balloons (that’s not an innuendo you filthy animal).

Cos really, I’m quite content with where I am. I’m still politely surprised that my early twenties have been and gone but I am here and ready to embrace the age I get married and (fingers crossed) buy a house. It’s all very ‘grown-up’ but I think I might be one of them adult things now? Maybe.

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