I'm sorry, I can't say it out loud. It's a scary number for me. It's like I'm on the threshold of being a proper adult. I can't have any more excuses to be or act childish. I'm supposed to be all mature and reasonable. My siblings are looking up to me. Watching my every move. They can act stupid all they want. Throw tantrums, watch cartoons and cry watching Titanic. But me? Oh no. I'm a grown-up. I can't have that. I'm to get hitched soon. Be responsible. Act my age, blah blah blah. Big three-O is just round the corner.
Yeah, yeah I had my birthday yesterday. I specifically forbade candles and cake. Instead I had brownies and cheesecake. (cheesecake doesn't qualify as a 'birthday cake') The messages and wishes from friends started coming in from midnight. Everything was going well and controlled...until three of my best buddies sent me these:
BFF (F): Happy Birthday my cute friend. Enjoy and behave.
BFF (M): Happy happy Birthday little woman.
Buddy (F): Happy Birthday Senorita! Wish you all the best in life, wealth, happiness, prosperity, lots of children and grandchildren.
Uhhhh. "Behave"? Little "woman"? (o_O)
Excuse ME. I'm still "me". Young at heart. Cartoon-movie-watching prankster. Master at annoying the hell out of my younger siblings. (and loving every moment of it) Junk-food enthusiast. Wisecracking King Julien. I baby-talk my way into getting what I want. And the last tantrum I threw was over an Oreo cheesecake that I wanted so badly last week. I had it, too.
Yep. That's the twenty-something me. They say growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional. I refuse to grow up. No one can talk me into it. Bahhh! Pbbfft.
