Scrolling down Instagram, envying your "Slaying at work outfit" caption. Your working friends responding with conceited indifference at your mention of your relief for your manageable exam timetable. Being ashamed that you allowed yourself to like a boy younger than you and let his rejection get to you. In the same heavy breath, you're relieved that your parents are paying your rent and buying your groceries because this financial independence thing doesn't really have to happen today, right?
Yep, this is my seemingly tumultuous, yet pretty stagnant year of 25.
I recently turned 25 and since the clock struck 2016, I've been feeling very sentimental about the days of my youth.
Turning 25 and being in an environment where I am constantly surrounded by people younger than me has made me second guess a lot of my decisions, behaviour and actions. Is it appropriate? Am I not too old to still be engaging in such discussions? Should I still be making mistakes? These kinda mistakes? I'm actually having a strenuous year because of this monumental number constantly hanging over my head in a room full of spritely 21yr olds who apparently get this life thing better than I did at that age.
I could lie about my age, I've often briefly considered, but that would just take away from the experiences and encounters that have led me to this point in my life. I mean, people would believe me if I told them I'm 20 because I'm a fresh-faced, shoe size 3, dress size 28, A-cupped lady. Another grievance - my body size at my age. I feel underdeveloped and feel that my petite frame compromises my dignity as a 25yr old black woman. Being skinny and old is only a 'compliment' to a white lady - if you're a black woman without a visible derrière among other things, you're deemed unattractive (even ill at times).
I remember when I turned 21 I woke up shocked at how small my boobs were at that age as if somewhere between the 28 and 29 March a miraculous breast enlargement was meant to deem my 32A bras obsolete. Yes, at 21 I felt old as well, but allowing more room for error (maybe a little too much room).
Having had fashion cakes for previous birthdays, this year I opted for a Minnie Mouse cake because my inner child is still alive as f*^*k. I also have a tendency of celebrating my birthday for longer than is reasonable for the average human being that was born on just one day. I've always looked forward to my birthdays. How could I not place so much importance on the day I finally entered the world in all its beauty and sordidness? This year, though, the thought of my birthday made me slightly anxious. I had a good birthday month (March madness all round), but this year I thought of my birthday as the day that would confirm all the things I hadn't yet ticked off of life's to-do list:
- Not paying my own rent
- Haven't bought myself a car
-I speak of classmates rather than colleagues
- I don't know what it feels like to have someone to call my own. Never have.
I pray everyday that at 30 I'll be singing a different song. Strangely enough, at 24 I felt nothing about my age. Like Goldfish, I was just cruising through (insert lazy chuckle). Yes, societal pressures have dictated that adulthood begins at 25 and you should be married with 2.43 (or whatever that arb figure is) kids at 25 living in a house with a white picket fence.
I'm not usually a person who succumbs to societal pressure, but this adulthood one in particular gripped me the same way the choir in Kanye's Ultralight Beam grips me. It's because young, overzealous me had big plans. Hell, my res mates and I made a pact to be 25 sitting on a net worth of R25 million (thanks for nothing, Drake), but today the only million I'm familiar with is the "One million Braids" fiber I buy to get my hair did. I still have big plans, but now I'm stuck in Wonderland, running with a ticking clock and I'm not entirely sure why I think I'm late.
I have reason to celebrate, though. A lot. I've grown wiser. I'm extremely comfortable with my character. I'm good at what I do. I'm starting to handle unpleasant situations with more rational confrontation and humour. I know who my real friends are. I have a good relationship with God. I believe in self care. I is a queen. Most importantly, I can spit in perfect unison with Drake when he says, "Don't talk to me like I'm that [Afika] from 4yrs ago. I'm at a higher place."
So in the sentiments of an old cliché; why am I comparing my behind the scenes with someone else's highlight reel?
