Now I have just about gotten over the excitement of turning 25, we can get back to business. I.e. the business of me somewhat oversharing with you every aspect of my life. My birthday week had ups and downs. Ups in the form of being the centre of attention (my very fave) and getting to spend some serious celebration time with my favourite people, and downs in the form of being super busy at work, and my dress for the upcoming wedding of my best friend selling out. Fuck you, ASOS. Or anyone who’s recently purchased a one-shouldered green gown in a size 12. Fuck you all.
I feel like 25 is the kind of age where it’s all make or break. Your mid-to-late twenties are that, for sure. People around me are starting to make proper, life-altering decisions for themselves. Just this week, one of my closest pals got engaged, and two others split from their long term partners. Both of those things are OK. Life has different paths for different people, so (and I know it’s easier said than done) don’t sweat it too much. Everything happens for a reason, so trust the system. Oh, and live your goddamn life. Oh, and remember that when you’re all making these incredibly adult choices, I am still at home wearing my onesie and relying on Clearpay to spread out the cost of my new tailored shorts (to all of £4.50 per month).
This is probably a good time to tell you all that I am going back to school. Thank God it’s the kind of school you don’t get marked on your attendance. I am doing a part-time undergrad degree in Psychology and Counselling, on my way to (eventually) qualifying as a sex therapist. I am half excited, half absolutely shitting my pants, particularly because I am due to start within a few weeks of both the launch of my new website and merch store, and the release of my book. If you see me at all during these times, check in and offer me a cheese sandwich, would you? I’ll likely need all the support I can get. But it is very, very exciting. All of it. This year has gone immensely fast so far and, while I often contemplate what I actually have achieved so far, I know that by the time 2020 rolls around I will be frazzled and more stressed than that time I organised Easter lunch for 30 people. And it will be so worth it.
Also, guess-fucking-what? I’m still going to the gym. Go right ahead and pick those jaws up from off the floor. For the last few weeks, I’ve been 4-5 times a week anddddddd, despite the odd spell of anxiety when I have to go to a class on my own, I am really enjoying it. Plus, the endorphins are working wonders for my notoriously not great Monday-Friday moods.
This coming weekend is the hen do for one of the Ravens. I can’t wait! So much lovely, snuggly, prosecco-fueled girl time and I promise I will make all of my hardest efforts not to flash her friends and family my bush. And then I’ll be celebrating my birthday some more (sorry not even a little bit sorry) in London, watching Hamilton and eating haggis. Sunday will be spent recovering, and hopefully with a substantial bout of oral sex served with a side of pancakes. Another busy weekend, I know. But after this, I have three where I am doing almost nothing, and the idea of multiple consecutive lie-ins and entire days off not-hungover fill me with the most excitement.