Why is midlife crisis a thing? It’s easy to be a 40 year old and cruising around in a BMW or something and sipping on ice tea and slapping on lipstick and fixing your heels. While the kids are away at their grandparents’ and all you’re doing is playing hooky. At work. Smooth.
Mid twenties? Not so much, no ma’am.
Everyone wants you to procreate. Everyone wants you to snag a rich husband like you were on some TV show. Everyone is suddenly pregnant and they’ve all suddenly turned into pee factories, talking stretch marks, teething babies and knitting sweaters. When all you wanna do is – for Lord’s sake – sit back and relax in your Sponge Bob pjs and eat Doritos and watch Orphan Black while lamenting the loss of Paul Dierden and noticing Rachel’s perfectly coiffed hair and wondering how long it took to get it that perfect.
And god forbid if you’re dating. You want to talk makeup and Sephora sales because that’s the only thing you know, and he wants to talk politics, sports and things because that’s the only thing he knows. Like, I can’t do relationships, and you want me to get hitched. Don’t even get me started on what happens when you date someone from another community in India. You gotta convert, you gotta change your name, you gotta change yourself and be a mini version of the dude’s mum, basically.
Nobody cares about what YOU want because you’re 25, and you gotta live life based on what society wants. And people at 40 wish they were 25. Like, wow. Go back to being 40. You’re better off that way.