Aside from figuring out the best skin care regimen that works best for me and learning that the recommended amount of water a day actually makes a difference, I admit that my favorite thing about the road leading to turning twenty-five is accepting that it's okay to not know exactly what you want and know exactly what you don't. It's okay to not have everything together nor be a well put-together lady.
The closer I get to my 25th birthday, the more I embrace the rarity of looking lady-like. I am most likely to always rock winged-liner, wear lived-in denim and worn-out sneakers. I've resolved with myself that I am not going to be the twenty-five-year-old that my fifteen-year-old self imagined myself to be.
Of course, putting on a lipstick that actually changes the color of my lips and trading in my backpacks for a small clutch (that fits nothing but my phone and the lipstick) and matching heeled booties gives the illusion of a more polished woman in front of you, but I still don't own a hair brush. Beyonce has a bottle of hot sauce in her bag and I have a tub of Vaseline and L'Occitane hand cream in mine. While it's easier to take off chipped nail polish and have bare nails, I wait until the polish peel off completely from every day wear and tear. I've never owned a pair of shoes that looks as good and as new as when I got them. I take at least three days to finish my laundry. My bed is almost always undone because I'll sleep on it again anyway.
So, as I spend my birthday month next month traveling around the motherland, I've committed myself to packing only easy, comfortable 90s pieces including one flared-bottom jeans (without the boots with the fur) and some tiny sunglasses that barely cover my eyes and accentuate only the lower half of my face.
Here's to turning 25 on the 25th next month!
It's Golden, they said.