on turning 27.

Today is my 27th birthday.

I know everybody says this as they’re getting older, but I don’t feel like I’m 27. I feel like a twenty-seven-year-old should be eating salads for lunch and attending poetry readings and growing herbs in their backyard and going running every morning and drinking green tea.

Guess who is doing none of those things?

Twenty-seven seems like one of those milestone birthdays where I should start feeling/acting like an adult – when I should stop having cereal for dinner and watching cat videos on the internet. But what if I don’t want to?

On my birthday, I tend to regress and be overcome with childlike excitement. The sun shines brighter on my birthday, and I always wear a special outfit. I have to spend the day reminding myself that I’m a grown-ass woman and can’t go all five-year-old and tell everyone that it’s my birthday.

So much for adulthood.

I rarely feel older/more mature on my birthdays, save for the ones that have some kind of privilege attached to them: 14 and getting my learner’s permit, 16 and getting my regular license, 18 and registering to vote (I was way more excited about this than being able to buy cigarettes and lottery tickets), 21 and buying booze (this one was important), 25 renting a car (which I have yet to do).

To be fair, I have quite a few more milestones under my belt on this birthday than I did on my last one. Since my last birthday, I have gotten married, been on honeymoons to Canada and New Orleans, bought a house, been promoted, and adopted a cat. Twenty-six was a busy year.

But what comes at 27? I blew through milestones in the last year, and so the only ones left are get a dog (yes please!) and have kids (no please!). I can see only one of those things happening in the next year – bet you can guess which one.

I think I’m ready for 27. When I was a kid, seven – for some reason – was my favorite number, and they say it’s a lucky number. Maybe that’s why James and I started dating on 7/27/2007 and – six years later – got married on 7/27. So my 27th year can be nothing but good, right?

After all, my 27th birthday landed on a beautiful spring Saturday – it’s already off to the best possible start!