If you know me well, you should know how insecure I am with my age. Most people enjoy and celebrate their birthday as something that we all should be proud of. Err, not for me though. Whenever I see “January 13” on my calendar, I get really emotional. Yes, I cry myself out. I cry to the fact that it’s my birthday and I’m getting (ugh!) old. It all started when I reached 18. It just dawned on me that I was nowhere getting younger. I just always feel awful that I have to abide certain age rules to do certain things. That I can’t do this because I’m “old” now.

But this year was different. Turning 21 was different. And I actually thank the people at work for making me realized that age is just a number. The part where, even that you’re 21, people can still sing to you a “Happy Birthday” song without making you feel mortified. The part that you can still wear a huge badge with a badass number 21 and “Birthday Girl” written all over it. And blowing a candle not just on cakes but even on jam donuts, too! It’s ridiculously funny, thinking about it now, when I lay on my bed crying myself out because it was my birthday. That was probably the most ludicrous thing I have done in my life! 

So what if I’m 21?