Romy and Michele's High School Reunion is a brilliantly, hilariously perfect film, and if you haven't seen it then I suggest you get the girls around and watch it pronto. It is, obviously, about their ten year high school reunion and how they haven't achieved all that much since school, so they make it all up and go to try and show off. The problem with this, despite the tear-inducing comedy, is that it got me thinking about the past ten years of my life. Uhoh.
Next year it will be ten years since I left school, which, along with the big two five and the fact that it's flown by, is absolutely terrifying. When I was younger, 25 seemed far far away; it was a year by which I would have got the job I always dreamed of, settled down with someone, bought a flat, maybe even got a ring on my finger or at least the potential for one. Probably a couple of cats in there too. As you grow up, 'that age' at which you think milestones might happen gets a little older as you realise how time has a habit of speeding up, but I didn't think I would get here and have absolutely none of the above.
It's quite earth-shattering to think that even if I move that age to 30, that only gives me five teeny tiny years to get there, and I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm not saying you have to have these things by this age or else you're a failure - we all know that people are getting married, having children later in life these days and the housing ladder is near impossible to find let alone get on; but I can't help remembering 12-year-old-me and her grand ideas of having her life sorted by the age of 26 - and I feel a little guilty that I didn't make it happen. It doesn't help that most of the people around me have managed it, sisters included (not all of the above but the ring-on-finger at least).