23

It’s a cliché, I know, to say ‘where did the time go?’ 

‘It’s March already’ (seriously though, it’s March already), ‘where did my teenage years go?’ – it’s very clichéd, and yet very real.

It’s 2017, which is scary in itself. I remember when I was in primary school and practising writing the date, ‘2003’, with one of those Berol Handwriting pens. 

But 2017 means I’m 23. Which is far more disturbing.

What did happen to my teenage years? How did the majority of my ‘early twenties’ slip by so quickly? I’m officially over half way to middle twenties. I’m expected to be a fully fledged adult now. Now, to some extent, I like to think I am: I live alone (in a studio flat; please, I can’t afford an actual flat); I cover my own bills; I work for my rent; I feed myself – I even cook the food – I had to learn to buy my own tampons and bathroom necessities; I make my own doctors’ appointments! But do I feel like an adult yet? No. And this is probably due to the fact that I still slip off the adult bandwagon and have moments where a packet of doritos constitutes a meal. But mainly it’s to do with the fact that I don’t feel 23. I don’t feel adult.

This probably stems from my family. I have two older brothers, both happily married, and one with a little girl. Both brothers met and began relationships with their significant others when they were 19. 19! Oh boy, am I late to the party. I should also add that I don’t mind not being in their position: my facebook is full of friends getting engaged and getting married and having their first if not second child, and I can honestly say that I feel way too young for marriage and have never felt broody in my life. However, it is scary when you have that Rachel from FRIENDS moment: she does the maths and works out when she would need to meet Mr Right in order to allow the amount of time she’d like for marriage and conceiving, etc.

But hold up.

How ridiculous is it that I feel like I’m running late? Running late for a party I actually don’t want to attend! I’m not looking for that stuff in my life right now, and I’m still feeling the pressure, which, I tell you, only started when I turned 23. As in, to the day. That ‘3’ does something to you.

The idea of the female biological clock is no stranger to me, and the assumption that women want to get married and have a family. But I suppose I’ve been naïve to think that, in a society where women continue to make such fantastic and inspiring leaps forwards in terms of agency over their careers, their bodies, and their lifestyle, the pressure was off. The ‘body image’ issue is everywhere and it’s still current: ‘plus-sized models’ at only size 12; ‘love your curves’ proudly emblazoned on petite and slender young girls. The pressure to be minute and toned and own a tank top is still as present today as it was in the 90’s when Holly Marie Combs, Alyssa Milano and Shannen Doherty were doing it. But now I’m not a teenager who spends all her time in H&M, wishing my breasts fit into those tank tops without poking out underneath as well. Now, it’s the new chapter: the ‘everyone get married’ era. And why? 

Yes, it’s true, for some people, I blame Christianity. Those 21 year old ardent Christians who got married? Hmm… Interesting… But for others, I just can’t see the trail. They genuinely seem to be 22/23 and just wanting to get married – confident enough to get married – adult enough to get married. I have nothing against young men and women in their early twenties getting married – many friends of mine have been such people and I wish them many congratulations and every happiness in their lives together. I just can’t relate.

Am I the odd one out? Are they what is ‘normal’?

The speed at which this new era has snuck up on me is terrifying, and I’m still a newcomer. I guess I’ll just see what else I discover…

Wish me luck!