It's my birthday today. I must be the only woman I know who actually quite enjoys getting a year older. I am now the grand old age of twenty-six, which means I can officially say I'm in my late twenties.
I know so many women (and men for that matter) who talk about thirty as if it's some kind of dirty secret (if they've passed it), or something hideous lurking on the horizon (if they haven't).
Maybe I'll change my mind in ten years time, but at the moment, I like the feeling of becoming older and (ahem) wiser.
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Hhhm, d'you still get ID'd? I did, last week while out with Claude. When I said I was 26 the barman said 'you're very lucky' but I don't see it myself. Why is it lucky to look like a spotty gawky 16 year old rather than a mature and sophisticated twenty-something?
Oh you think that's bad? Last time I got IDed it was for cigarettes. I mean REALLY! F'rcryin'outloud. Actual ten years younger.
And actually Meg you are been in your late twenties for a year already, as in maths you round up after the five, so I'M in my late twenties, and you're , like, really really old.
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