There are exactly thirty days left till I turn 24. Scary as eff.
I’m going to miss being in my early twenties. Mid-twenties – in fact, mid-anything – is always, ALWAYS bad news. Oh God. I’m freaking out.
First off, all my friends are getting married, which means I’m going to be the only fat gooseberry left. Awesome. And this means attending tons of weddings, and well, this:
I’m going to have to buy anti-wrinkle creams and lotions and eye-shadow primer. And frequent the Lancome counter. And obviously, go broke and embarrass myself. As usual. Oh my God. Is that a new wrinkle? *dies*
The part that scares me the most? I’ll
definitely probably have to buy my own presents. And people would make fun of me still, like:
I’ll have to be less b*tchy and act mature. Mature? What am I, raw watermelon? I don’t do mature, thank you.
I’m growing old – it’s got NOTHING to do with growing up. Duh.
On the upside though…
Is anyone else dreading their birthday? Let me know!