Countdown to the Big Two-Five, I Guess

In less than a month (twenty-six days, to be exact), I turn 25. I must admit: it’s a little frightening. For reasons I no longer remember that are too stupid and embarrassing to share, I used to look forward to turning a year older. …All right all right, I will tell you why: once upon a time (meaning, back in college aka when I didn’t know better), there was this guy. He was maybe five or six years my senior and— not to bore you with old drama— he made me feel inadequate for being young(er). That whole thing with guy didn’t work out (obviously and thank gawd) and now I am in a *sparkle* relationship *sparkle* with a guy who is twelve years older than me and he makes me feel like the most special kitty in the world.
SO I AM TURNING 25 and I am feeling… the age. At 25, I can no longer join beauty contests (I’m not saying that I can or will) or audition for certain things (last week, I found myself outside a band rehearsal studio at Annapolis in Cubao. There was a sign looking for female band members within the 18-24 age range) or qualify for certain jobs (uh, receptionist? Secretary? Oh, what do I know). These are the unimportant things that send me into little fits of internal panic. How very unnecessary.
Now as much as I would like to expound on this fear and talk about my feelings! my emotions! mah h0pez & mah dreamz!, I’d rather take the ditzy route and list down a bunch of crap I feel I would need “to give meaning to my 25 years of existence” aka STUFF HELGA WANTS (and will probably get for herself) FOR HER BIRTHDAY. No, lots of beer and lots of vodka are not in the list; what am I, in high school?


Hi, I'm Helga Weber and welcome to my personal site. I'm 25 and in the process of learning how to make adventurous life choices. I dislike old people but I love grandma clothes. My goal in life is to build a ball pit right next to my bed. Currently searching for the perfect house coat. My lover is the greatest. 