I have been twenty-three-years-old for a week now. And it is crazy.
Who thought turning one day older would make a difference. It does.
People always ask on birthdays if you feel any older. For most of my life I’ve answered that question with some sentence resembling “I’m only one day older then I was yesterday.”
But not this year.
This year I feel old.
At first this was a bad thing.
When my friend Emily stood up on her chair in the cafeteria to make everyone sing to me and announced that I was 23, it was a bad thing.
When I lay in my bed for a short nap the afternoon of my impending old lady doom, yes us old people have to take naps to get through the day, it was a bad thing.
When I realized that when someone asks me how old I am, for the next 339 days, I have to say 23, it was a bad thing. (This excluding the fact that in 339 days I will have to say I am 24, which is way worse.)
But then I realized something incredible.
When some guesses that I’m 14 years old I will be able to enjoy the shock on their face when I announce that I’m 23 and offer to show them my legitimate drivers license that proves this point. Though it still may take some time to convince them that it isn’t a fake id.
I have always hated looking young and people have always told me that I will appreciate it when I’m 40, problem being that I am a long way from 40 and it just annoyed me to look 12 all the time.
However, at 23 this looking young has provided some comfort because I don’t feel that old so at least I don’t look it.
My life doesn’t look anything like I thought it would at 23. I expected to married with at least one blonde or redheaded little baby living in a precious little house with my minister husband.
Ya, that’s not happening.
Nor am I living in a city somewhere in a flat with a friend taking the marketing world by storm with my incredible ability to boss people around.
Again, not happening.
I’m about to graduate from college and still feel like I’m 16, okay 19 on a good day.
But no, I’m old.
I realize I am not actually old, but it does feel strange to be 23 years old.
This is the age that I used to look forward to when I was younger because then, I would finally be a grown-up.
But while I feel old, I don’t feel anything like a grown-up. Hence the frustrating dichotomy of my current age situation: I look 12, feel old, and can’t believe I’m actually 23. But I am. And unfortunately, that is all there is to it and I can do nothing about it.