This year I turn 22. Which puts me firmly in the ‘twentysomething’ camp.
WTF? When did this happen?
Can I still wear short shorts? Am I too old to eat popcorn for dinner? Will I ever be able to park properly, enabling me to drive on my own? Why do I not own an iron? Or know how to deal with any cuts of chicken, barring the trusty chicken breast?
You know what brought this on? The fact that I was trying on a dress – and yes, I did end up buying it – and thought that it was TOO SHORT. (It wasn’t, by the way. And I’m not the kind to wear belt-sized skirts that don’t cover my ass.) The temporary insanity has mostly passed, but I can’t quite shake that feeling of time marching on.