I heard some news last night that was expected… but not as quickly as it came. My sister, who has just recently became happily engaged to her boyfriend on her 21st birthday, is pregnant. I am going to be an auntie and now feel 23 going on 33. The more I talk about this the further up the years creep. I am finding this all very unsettling.
Don’t get me wrong… I am very happy for my sister. While I felt happily nauseated while she ran through the romantic story of unexpectedly receiving a rock and red roses; its just all a bit sobering. People (who are younger than me) getting on with LIFE. Embracing that big scary doom cloud that is commitment. I would hate to get the key to a ball and chain on my 21st. Its everything against those hairy feminists have been fighting for all those years. I was only thinking a few nights ago that I shouldn’t be taking life so seriously, soon I will get slapped around the face with shitty nappy for a wake up call. Then the harsh realization that you are trying to make this world better for the next generation, when you struggle to make it better for yourself… I am too young for all this and its not even happening to me!
Mind you… I am looking forward to having a naive little thing calling me cool auntie Rosie…
