Yes, I just quoted a horrendous, no-good, very bad Britney song. No, I’m not apologising.
- I am the girl who feels that the label “fiancee” finally conveys the gravity of her relationship, but doesn’t feel old enough to be a “wife”
- I am the woman for whom packs of schoolgirls call “make way for the lady!” when running past, sweaty and out of breath
- The girl who who never have been voted MVP, but could have made MVTP
- The woman who wears heels maybe twice a year (a choice validated everytime she’s forced to stand on the bus)
- The girl who should never read long books, because she’ll make herself sick reading on the bus, trip over her feet while walking and reading, and be a zombie the next day at work after staying up to finish said book
- The woman who prefers discussing people to ideas, even if that makes her small-minded. there’s nothing more fascinating than the human psychology, and what’s an idea without people to dream them up and execute them?
- The girl who’s still a little afraid of the dark
- The woman who likes very little music pre-1970 or post-2000
Turning 23 has made me think long and hard about a lot of things. In particular, looking back at where I’ve come from. Ten years ago, I was obsessed with:
- wanting my knees to NOT knock together when I ran
- wanting to be the kind of girl who went out every Friday and Saturday night
- wanting long curly lashes
- wanting a thin nose
- wanting curly hair
- wanting better skin
- wanting a boyfriend (not necessarily in that order. Probably in reverse, actually)
(Dude, for a nerd I was incredibly shallow.)
I was convinced life would be so much better if only these things could happen. Of course, it all seems perfectly ridiculous now with a decade of wisdom to draw on (har de har har).
Turning 23 > turning 13.