When you’re young, birthdays seemed like the most exciting days of the year alongside Halloween and Christmas. Cards, presents, money and cake – a kid’s version of heaven. Even your parents hiring an inflatable bouncy castle and inviting all your classmates round for a party seemed like the most amazing thing!
Once you reach your adolescent years, the excitement dies down a little as you realise that you’re just getting another year older. We’ll all feel it at some point.
In my case, it’s turning 21.
If you were living in the United States, turning 21 would be exciting because you’d finally be able to legally drink alcohol. So why do we celebrate it so much in the United Kingdom when our legal drinking age is 18?
Truth of the matter is, no one knows. Is it because it’s the last ‘milestone’ birthday until you’re 30? Probably, but who actually knows?!
I’m turning 21 years old on Thursday, 29th June. I’m not thoroughly excited about it, but regardless, I’m celebrating it. After all, you’re not too old to celebrate your own day of birth, right? I hope not. I’m going bowling with my family and my girlfriend on the actual day after work, and we’ve even booked the VIP section. Fancy! The following Saturday, I’m going on a night out with friends to celebrate (as well as celebrating my degree results on Tuesday… hopefully.)
I’m not particularly looking forward to the embarrassing photos and videos being posted on Facebook by my family members, in all honesty. I have far too many ‘durr’ moments and I’d rather they weren’t shared publicly to the entirety of my friends list, but that’s what families are for after all. Nor am I looking forward to schedule my own appointments and become an ‘adult’ adult (thank you, mum, for your never-ending sacrifice in having to book my appointments. It will be truly missed.)
I’m getting old. What’s the betting that I’ll look in the mirror and find a receding hairline developing and thin, grey hairs? It’s tempting to dye my own hair right now. The thought makes me crease every time it creeps into my mind, even if I am still a young lad.
I have a love-hate relationship with my birthdays. It’s nice to have some fun and make memories, but at the same time, I don’t want to be reminded that I am getting older by the minute.
How do I spend my last days of being 20? I don’t know, and I hate to think about it, but life goes on. Here’s to my second year of the twenties, I guess?