I turned 27 a few days ago and if I’m being honest I have to say that I’m not all that thrilled about being so close to 30. I’m beginning to feel like I am getting old.
I know that 27 isn’t old, and 30 isn’t either for that matter. But its an age by which I had assumed I would have a lot more shit figured out than I do. Its a time when you should be acting less like a teenager and more like an adult.
When I was younger I didn’t really think that I would want to get married or have kids. And I figured that if I ever changed my mind about that, I’d be at least 35 before I took the plunge and settled down
Now that I’m here, at 27, I’ve come to realize that marriage and children aren’t such a horrible idea. In fact its an idea that gives me the warm and fuzzies. But it also gives me anxiety because I feel like if I want those things then they should be happening soon. Like very soon. So soon in fact, that in an ideal world I’d be married with a baby by 30, or at the very least have one on the way.
But right now, in this very moment, the likelihood of that happening is probably slimmer than the chances of me winning the lottery. You see, being single with zero man-friend prospects, really makes it difficult to meet such a deadline.
I’m honestly surprised that I’m feeling this way about things so soon. But as it turns out, 27 is when your biological clock literally starts to tick because fertility starts to decline. And now that I’m pretty sure I want kids, the thought of not being able to have them is a little bit scary.
And lets not forget that having kids young is not such a bad thing. Cause I really don’t want to be 60 when I’m sending my offspring to college.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I have baby fever. Because I don’t. I really really don’t. Yeah, my ovaries hurt a little when I see a super cute bambino, and I swoon over adorable baby clothes, but right now I’m happy spending my extra money on Starbucks, clothes and shoes, and being able to sleep all night and well into the morning.
I’d just feel a little better if my life seemed as if it were slowly moving in the direction of a baby stroller and a white picket fence.
All in due time I suppose.
PS. Seriously, how am I 27 already? I’m an adult. When the hell did that happen? And can I make it stop? (At least until I find a boyfriend anyways.)