Today, I’m 23 years old. I am what they refer to as an ‘adult’. Apparently, I was an ‘adult’ some 5 years ago, when I turned 18, they say. Not sure who ‘they’ is. But, I don’t think I got the manual for Adulting. Is there one that everybody receives? Can I subscribe it from somewhere?
This year, unlike 22 birthdays before, I was extremely grumpy and unpleasant about my birthday actually coming. Several reasons contributed to the factor, one being- PMS. Everyone will probably say it was the PMS and the hormones. But, was it?
Let me tell you something about me. I’m a tiny person with the energy of a child high on sugar. Except, I don’t need to be actually high on sugar to have the energy, but God Forbid, when I do have sugar… Point is, my birthday is probably the most awaited days of the year. Sometimes, I start planning them as early as the night of my birthday when I’m in bed after my fancy party and all the presents open. (I know, I sound like I’m 5 more than 23). I am 23. Still can’t grasp it.
So, this year, I was supposed to behave like an adult. I’m being told continuously to act like a grown up, to show I’m mature. One of them being was to not get too excited about my birthday. Which, my best friend, Cee pointed out is absolutely rubbish and me not being excited about my birthday is like me not being excited about my birthday. I’m sorry, it’s just on such a high scale of things that it cannot be compared to much. See, that’s the kind of person I am.
I’m like that episode of Gossip Girl (I still love this show!), where Blair Waldorf planned this whole birthday party. The similarity is here- She had such expectations, and when it didn’t go the way she wanted, she had sort-of a meltdown.
I’m 23 years old. I still love to have cake for breakfast (whenever my parents let me). I still live with my parents (which is very common if you’re from the desi households). I have chosen a career path for me, which I’m kinda passionate about, but the bell of unassertive about. I still believe can live on chocolate. I still can’t wear high heels without groaning about the excruciating pain.
If that’s an adult, I’m there. Happy Birthday to me!