If you know me, you know that I love my birthday. I love my birthday so much that in my world, it is not simply just a day: first comes birth month, which encompasses the entire month of April, then comes birth week on April 19, and finally, on April 26, it becomes the day I wait for all year: the anniversary of my birth.
This past weekend, I celebrated my 20th birthday, and I came to the realization that it was probably the most anti-climatic birthday I have had in years. There was the sweet 16 (which, in New Jersey, came with a drivers' permit); at 17 I was able to take my first attempt at obtaining my drivers' license; at 18 I became a legal adult, and at 19 I could officially drink in every country except the United States. Even though my twentieth year involves entering a new decade, I still don't feel like anything has changed -- except the fact that I can now assure you I beat teen pregnancy.
Usually, turn-of-the-decade birthdays are largely celebrated with parties, and are widely acknowledged. They are referred to as “big birthdays," while 20 definitely gets the short end of the stick. Due to the fact that one is unable to legally drink in the United States until they turn 21, the big celebration is delayed another year. Even though my awkward teenage years are (thankfully) over, I don't feel that my 20s have yet begun. Maybe I'm looking too much into the sitcoms that I watch, but your twenties are about living in and exploring a big city with friends, while having an entry-level job and spending money that you don't have at the same bar every weekend. Seeing as I am still in college for another two years, and cannot legally go to bars, it is very hard to recognize myself as a twenty-something.
So while my age may start with a two, I still have a long way to go until I can truly experience my twenties. Although I feel that the number change is ahead of the lifestyle change, I do feel that my teenage years are over, and I look forward to what the twenties have to bring. Even though I still have a few years to wait, I look forward to living in my first apartment in New York City, having a big-girl job and, most importantly, I look forward to being able to buy my own alcohol and legally consume it. Who knows, maybe I'll even find a husband and have a child by the time my 30th rolls around? This being said, let the 366-day (2016 is a leap year) countdown to the big 2-1 begin -- bring it on, twenties!
