And so, just like that, I join the infamous 27 club.
When I was growing up 27 always seemed like the age where life would settle down. I’d own my own house, be getting married and not be far away from having two children before I was 30. Spoiler alert: none if these are even remotely close to happening.
13 year old me had vague plans I’d be a famous director or actress and walk red carpets wearing beautiful dresses with perfectly blow dried hair but to be honest at that age my future job plans changed quicker than I changed my fave Impulse body spray.
So if this is supposedly the time in my life when I’m supposed to have everything together why does it feel like that could not be further from the truth?
I pay around a million pounds a month to share a teeny London flat with my boyfriend and the idea of buying a flat is absolutely laughable. Getting children and having babies is so far down my priority list it’s even further down than watering our lone basil plant (actually probably should water that though…). And being a famous actress? HA! The closest I got to that is singing Let It Go at my work karaoke night.
But so what? Why does it matter if you have what you think should be your dream life, your dream job, your dream blow dry? It certainly doesn’t matter to me. My life may not be perfectly “on track” but it’s pretty damn perfect to me.
So here’s to 27.
Here’s to making the most of some (but not all) days.
Here’s to my wonderful friends are family who are my ride or dies.
Here’s to spending my house deposit money on brunch and Prosecco as, let’s face it, I’m never going to be able to buy in London now.
Top pattern: New Look 6407
Top fabric: crepe from Sew Me Sunshine