A Quarter of a Century Old. (And Valentine's Day).

Well, y'all. It happened. And by "it" I mean that I did in fact turn twenty-five years old. This past Friday to be exact. Yes, on Friday the thirteenth I turned a quarter of a century old. I couldn't believe it either. I'm not really sure when I did in fact get to the point that I was ready to be in my mid-twenties, but here I am. And you know what? I'm good with it.

I know, right?! I didn't see this coming either. I thought that I would have some giant meltdown  or something. I honestly didn't know how I was going to react. I mean, don't people usually have a mid, or in this case quarter, life crisis? Shouldn't I be freaked out and trying to "find myself" or something along those lines? I don't know. I'm probably ok with it, because I'm good with who I am. I know me and I'm happy with the person that I am. The way I look at it, as long as you're happy with yourself, than you're fine. Unless you're a serial killer, rapist, hurt children, or you know, Casey Anthony. Than you're not ok. And I want to punch you really hard in the throat. You know, just saying.

I've also never been one to celebrate birthdays. Don't get me wrong, Momma always made us a cake every year, but we never did the whole big shebang. I had a sleepover when I was in fifth grade to celebrate and that only happened once. And it was completely by my choice, because if we're being perfectly honest I didn't like having all those girls over invading my space. Even just thinking about it gets on my nerves. The next morning I told Momma never again, and I meant it.

I've just never been one to get excited about birthdays. But this one? This one just felt different for some reason. I couldn't tell you why, because I don't even know for myself, but it did. I didn't do anything in particular. In fact, Momma and I grabbed some supper and stayed in for the night. It was SO cold! And we all know how much I don't like to go out in the first place. But we stayed in and relaxed. It was great.

And did I mention how many people remembered my birthday? And Valentine's Day? Yeah, I'm pretty sure every single person I know wished me a Happy Birthday. Some sent me cards. Others candy. My very much (non)boy(guy?)friend even sent me flowers, chocolates, and a card. (No ones ever sent me flowers before, by the way). Greg and his crew came up the next day and took us out to dinner and brought me a giant hot pink stuffed dog. And finally, two cakes people. Two. Cakes. All in all, I'm going to have to say that I put it to a vote and it's been decided- I'm turning twenty-five again next year. Don't try to talk me out of it. Cake and flowers, I've made up my mind.