Being 24 (And Why It’s Awesome)

Being 24 (And Why It’s Awesome)

MIND FUCK: 24 was the age all the characters in Friends were when the show started and that’s the age I am now (and have been for a wee while). WHAAAAAAT?

They were so grown up. They had sex, jobs, some money, apartments, relationships, annoying parents, and all sorts of grown up things. They were my idols. Their lives looked incredible. They were 24. And now I’m 24. Yikes.

But it’s a good age, isn’t it? I think it is. Here’s why:


People who are 24 tend to have a job. Studying (URGH) is no longer required. You can go home at 6 and you can switch off — if you want. Because you can stay switched on if you like your job. Either way, you win. Love your job? You’re getting paid to have fun. Hate your job? You still have actual proper guilt-free free time. Also, at 24, you don’t have to feel guilty if you’re not doing your “dream job”. There’s still time.


Gone are the days when you have to be friends with absolute dicks because not having friends looks super uncool. You’re only friends with people you genuinely really like and care about. To be fair, they’re probably a bit dickish too. But dickish in a good way. They call you up on bullshit and keep you on your toes. And you can also be dickish. They forgive you when you make a drunken moron of yourself or don’t text them back for ages or bail on events because you can’t be assed or WHATEVER. You love them and they love you – annoying warts and all. See Peter’s Friends for reference.


So you’re definitely not as self-conscious as you were when you were in your teens. And you’ve sort of come to the realisation that being yourself is alright. You do the things that you think are fun and that’s that. And instead of telling people lies so they like you, you tell them the truth. Although, don’t get me wrong, you probably still hate yourself pretty much 78% of the time, but it’s definitely not as bad as those teen years. Ugh, weren’t they the worst?


I actually don’t want to limit freedom to just being 24/in your twenties. Being free is certainly a lot easier in your twenties, but you have to be free whatever your age. You should always be able to change your mind. Don’t like a job you’ve been doing for 20 years? GET OUT. Don’t want to be married anymore? GET OUT. Had enough of being a parent? Sorry, that one you’re stuck with.

You’re the perfect mix of kid/adult

YOU HAVE THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS. You don’t have to do what your parents say anymore, but you can still ask them for help.  It’s acceptable to stay in and watch Masterchef every night, but it’s acceptable to go out and get drunk. If you can’t remember the last time you had a home-cooked meal or changed your bed sheets or got 8 hours sleep, people still treat you like an adult! It’s jammy, jammy, jammy.


My dad calls my boyfriend and I “TINKs”. Two incomes, no kids. It’s good, isn’t it? While we both have jobs, neither of us have any responsibilities. I mean, we probably should start saving for the “future”, but it’s a lot more fun eating out, drinking, and going on holidays and things. And it’s not like we don’t have a savings account. We have one, we’re just always taking money out of it. Because we can.

I think there are more good things about being in your twenties, but since I’m in my twenties, I drank a lot over the weekend and I’m sort of dying a little and I really want a crisp sandwich and a Pixar film. Yeah, I’m just going to just end this blog here.


I Like Big PANTS and I Cannot Lie

I Like Big PANTS and I Cannot Lie




It took all my energy not to reply with a big Cheshire Cat smile and the caption, ‘YES PLEASE!!!!!!!’ when my friend sent me this snap chat because, the truth is, I just LOVE pants like these. A wee frill, blue flowers, come up to the belly button…what’s not to like?

A lot, apparently.

I get slagged off relentlessly for my choice in pants. We’ve got a washing pulley in our kitchen and the other day my flat mate warned me that I better be careful when I hang them up because if they were to fall down, they could suffocate someone.

Ha. Ha.

It’s also embarrassing that I’m twenty years old and the only sexy pants I own are the ones my Mum buys for me.

“Well, they’re better than those empty sacks of potatoes you usually wear!” 

But those suffocating empty sacks of potatoes are:

1) THEE comfiest pants I’ve ever worn

2) THEE perfect size for tummy tuckage

3) THEE hottest of the hot (not going to lie, could be alone with this view)

And I only learned of their brilliance two years ago and it was all because of a mistake. ‘Twas the summer before my first year at University and thinking that I wouldn’t wash my clothes as often as at home, I decided to go to Primark and stock up. Not really caring what I got, I picked up two packs of basic, black, Age 18 pants and bought them. It wasn’t until I opened them, on that first week in Halls, that I realised when you pass the age of 10, you can no longer buy clothes where their size matches your age and so there I was, a size 8, with size 18 pants.


And to be honest, I’ve never looked back.

*Cough* Except that time in the gym to make sure that my t-shirt (which honestly looked bigger on the hanger) covered them up.