It's my birthday tomorrow. I'm going to be 26. While this is no age, I'm pretty depressed about it. I don't feel 26, I feel 56.
If you'd have told me two years ago that by 26 I would be married with a baby, I would have told you to fuck off and carried on drinking my vodka tonic whilst scanning the room for someone to flirt with. Oh how times have changed...
I'm not unhappy, quite the opposite. It has just been a bit of a culture shock. The baby bubble has burst and I feel like a haggard old housewife.
So what will my 26th year bring? A lot of luxury I'm hoping. And I don't mean lots of expensive things. Some nice bubble baths and lots of scrumptious lotions and potions for my body. 'Cause lets face it, it ain't what it used to be.
My 26th year is going to be all about looking after myself. Because although I don't look a day over 18 (as the lovely lady in M&S pointed out at the weekend), I sure as hell feel like an old granny.