Hollie Rosenberg turns 25-years-old this week and is nowhere near where she dreamed she'd be at this point in her life. Refusing to blame herself, she blames the sodding recession
In a matter of days I'm turning 25 and for the first time I'm considering not celebrating my birthday because I'm just nowhere near where I thought I'd be by this age.
As a naive robustly ambitious teenager, I set myself some rather ridiculous targets to achieve by the time I reached this age. From bagging a hubby and popping out a couple of kids to living abroad and owning a house – I thought I would have done all that by now.
In my mind, I was set for a Stepford Wives type life (hey! Enough of the judgey face, I'm just being honest) complete with a huge garden and lots of cake-making joy. If my teenage targets are anything to go by, I should be married to a successful man who walks in the front door and yells "Honey I'm home" every single bloody night. I also believed I would have twins babies and two sausage dogs called Bert and Barbra (after my love of Streisand, of course).
I have failed on all accounts – but that's life for a post recession (is it over? Hard to tell) 20-something, isn't it? Please say yes so I don't feel like a complete loser.
So that was the dream, and here's what's actually happening with me as I approach this, my first milestone-ish birthday.
In reality, I'm renting a flat that costs so much I have zero disposable income left over to buy the amazing designer wardrobe I had always planned on. And let's face it, I'll be about 40 before I can afford to buy a house or that rail of clothes – the recession has screwed me not just financially but sartorially and I'll be honest, I'm pissed about that.
I live with my boyfriend, yes, but I'm no Stepford Wife. I'm a Fifa widow who ends up tidying after messy boys when they come to stay and play computer games.
Instead of changing nappies, I make it a priority to attend anything that includes free booze and allows me to get smashed. I pre-night-out drink massively, too. It's a must these days. Getting drunk while sitting in my tights and bra (so there's no spillage on the frock, you know?), well, that's now a way of life. I'd rather that than struggling in a pair of sky high heels paying a fortune for a cocktail in a bar.
I work to play, and play for me takes the form of cheap gigs, drunkenly dancing in the street, eating out cheaply and exploring new places. I might not be where I thought I'd be but I'm having fun getting there. Slowly. Give me five more years and maybe I'll have ticked all my boxes - post-recession, it's difficult to know what will and won't be possible by the time the next milestone birthday rolls around.
P.S If one more person says that I am a step closer to 50 and a quarter of the way to 100, I'll probably kill them.
Yep, it's hard to find shopping money these days, so thank God for the sales...
Suggested For You
SUBSCRIBE AND FOLLOW
Get top stories and blog posts emailed to me each day. Newsletters may offer personalized content or advertisements.Learn more