There was a moment today that I freaked out about my pending birthday. It’s on Friday (don’t act like I never told ya) and it’s coming whether I’m ready or not.
I didn’t freak out because I’m broke and don’t have any plans or because I’ve yet to buy the dress that I’ll most likely pass out in after a night of intense dancing like birthdays of yore, but because I’ll be 26.
And not that 26 is actually old, but it’s like I’m about to tip toe over some threshold. As my boyfriend put it when he celebrated his big day a couple months ago; the jig is up.
My best friend and I had an extensive conversation about it. We talked about just saying screw it and giving 25 another go because, what is time really anyway?
I know all of this is something most people older than me would shake their heads at.
And that fact lets me know that I’m not really old because anyone that really is seasoned knows that 26 isn’t old. But man it sure does feel like it.
When you really think about it, I think the only thing about aging that’s scary or off-putting is this idea that you have to let something go and put some other, often daunting responsibility in its place.
We see it played out time and time again in fashion. Especially when it comes to women.
“Is she really wearing that mini skirt? She must be at least 37.”
“That outfit is not age appropriate.”
“Girl. Now you knooooow you are too grown to be wearing a dress that tight.”
It becomes this overwhelming idea of who you’re supposed to be at a certain point that looms ahead, instead of the idea that who you’re going to be can be built from scratch by you.
Honestly, it just seems so anti….woman to make these distinctions.
We’re so bold, and impactful, and fearless that it seems counter productive to box those qualities in age-appropriate slacks after the age of 25.
I think we’re moving toward a place in society where when it comes to expression, anything goes. When you have women like Baddie Winkle and Iris Apfel whose wardrobes essentially scream “fuck you and your restrictions,” I definitely have hope for what’s to come.
So maybe there’s really nothing to worry about. Maybe if I have freedom to wear what I want, I also have freedom to build my life in any way I please.
Either way, now that I’ve shared my thoughts, I can’t be 25 again. I guess the jig really is up.