For fun, here is a list of things I was DEFINITELY going to have by the time I was 25:
A dazzling career, either in the entertainment industry or maybe working as a PA for someone hugely famous and wealthy, who would let me cruise around their high life with all their cash and benefits, but with anonymity.
A beautiful Spanish/Italian boyfriend, who was an exceptional love and cook and played guitar and wrote songs about me.
I was going to play at least one instrument exceptionally well.
And I would still be singing, and touring with my accompanying band, occasionally making appearances in intimate local venues, at the will of my adoring public. And throw some stand up comedy routines in there too.
I was going to have beautiful, artistic tattoos that were both unique and meaningful to me, on my fit and healthy young body.
I was going to drive around in my original VW campervan.
My boobs were going to have grown in properly.
Things I was DEFINITELY going to have by the time I was 30:
I was going to own a cottage in the country with a 1950's kitchen
Start making beautiful babies. One was going to be mixed race. (I'm not sure how that was going to happen. Sorry I didn't understand the politically incorrect implications of fetishizing black babies back then).
Own lots of pets (cats, chickens and a cow mainly).
Continue my very successful writing career.
Have a supple yoga body and mainly live barefoot.
A few years ago, I realised that all of my dreams and ambitions, all of the visions of the future that I'd had, were of me at a younger age. I hadn't achieved any of them (hey we all know 'god' laughs at our plans!).
Although I did once kiss a very drunk Italian man, and I do a great singalong to the radio, and I am kind-of a PA, well more of a partner, to someone whose been on the telly a few times, enough to have their own IMDB page, although there's not much money in it.
And I do have a cat. I'm actually glad I couldn't commit to any tattoos, because my style has somewhat changed over the years. And my boobs did get fuller, as I've got fatter. And I own a Yoga for Dummies DVD. So I'm not far off really!
Of course by 40 I am DEFINITELY going to have:
Some sort of an attempt at a career.
A degree in something.
Some sort of an attempt at a family, maybe children, maybe just cats.
The wisdom of Buddha, without the physique. People will flock to me for advice and knowledge, and I shall entertain them with my witty anecdotes and tales of a life lived fully.
And I think I will leave it at that. Maybe if I lower my expectations I will succeed!
I still have dreams of living in Paris for 6 months, living in a tiny apartment with bright coloured walls and spider plants and a grey cat for company; where I sit on the window sill, looking down on the world, absorbing the sights and smells, inhaling the essence of all of the great bohemians, writing, painting, sleeping in the nude...
Perhaps I shall save that for 50!
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