I saw this picture today and it got me thinking about what I wanted to do when I was little.
When I was a little girl, I had dreams. I had goals. I had planned out my whole life. Everything was going to be easy, I was going to be rich and my wedding was going to be the most talked about event ever.
While at primary school, I believed that I was going to be married by 23, have my first kid at 25 and be able to retire at the grand old age of 50…rich. All I knew was that I would be settled in a nice big house and be an actress come model come singer (none of this 9-5 office malarkey).
So here I am now, 22, with a Sports and Marketing degree under my belt, childless and single. I’m not a famous actress as I can’t remember reams and reams of script, I’m not a model as im only 5’5 and im not a singer because my voice could make dogs howl. The 10year old me would consider my life now, a failure. The more (and i use this word loosely) mature version, is glad she doesn’t have to worry about mortgages, wedding funds, living in a good school area and the rest that goes with it. Although a large piece of me would love to retire at 50.
Many of my friends have kids and the odd few are engaged or married, although I am happy for all of them, I know that I can go out, get rat arsed and not be guilty the next day that I’ve spent the food/gas/car money. I don’t think settling down young is right for everybody, heck, I know it’s not right for me. Everyday when I spot a young mum shout at their daughter ‘Beyonce’ for calling their little brother a ‘c**t’, I’m grateful I wasn’t a teen mum, living in a highrise with 3 different baby daddies (That’s a post for another time).