Today, I turned 25. That’s a quarter of a century on this planet, in this body (more or less). Wow.
I started the day with making whole-wheat-and-apple cinnamon rolls (my processed fruit problem is getting better!), and then celebrated by giving blood at the hospital and afterwards feasting on sushi with my blood gold and a couple of good friends. Now I’m going to curl up with Scoundrel and watch this year’s Tony Awards, primarily because we missed them when they actually happened, and secondary because I love musicals and Scoundrel starts to like them.
The weird thing is that I don’t feel like 25. I have to remind myself regularly that people see a grown-up person when they meet me on the street, and not a teenager or a (very) young adult. I have been told (amongst other by my mother, no less), though, that this will never change, and I think that’s just all right.
I have also been told that 25 can be a bit scary, but 30 will be really cool again, so I’m looking forward to that.
Happy Birthday to me, and thanks to my mother for giving birth to me. ❤