Patty Terhune

This is me living my life to the fullest, like your twenties are all about!

7:00 AM — Is it just me or do my bones hurt now? As other comedies targeting twenty-something women have shown, your twenties are for living your life with no regrets and your thirties are for giving up. That’s how I know that my bodily pain is due to my rapidly approaching milestone and not the 8 Vodka & Red Bulls I chugged last night. Better go back to bed just to be safe.

10:30 AM — Ahhhhh, now I’m awake enough to scroll through Tinder on the toilet. This is my last day dating around because starting tomorrow I will only want a monogamous relationship in which I comically resent my partner for the rest of my life! Today I match with the guy whose Spotify anthem is “My Bologna” by Weird Al.

11:00 AM — I meet up with my girls for brunch. I’ve decided I won’t be going in to work today — which I can do as someone who somehow makes hundreds of thousands of dollars by occasionally freelancing — and they don’t have jobs that require work in the morning hours. I think Lily is a nanny and Mary is a graphic designer? It doesn’t really matter because we are all so much more than our jobs. At least that’s true for another 13 hours, at which point I will become a disliked, but respected Vice President at a Recruiting Firm that will require me to work 80 hours a week. Got to suck down that sweet, sweet youth juice until then!

1:00 PM — Real fun only happens in your twenties so we maximize every minute with manicures! Our silly day takes a detour when I freeze while trying to pick a color. I start to zone out. I’ve never had to commit to anything before. No partner, no job, no pet. I once had a plant but I killed it in less than an hour, and then told it as a somewhat-funny, on-the-nose story at parties for the next five years! My eyes glaze over and I mumble “but the Ficus,” while I shiver. Did I used to be cold all the time? Or is this something I have developed as my life sprints toward 30? I don’t remember…

1:20 PM — After the crushing thought of responsibility passes, I rejoin reality. I laugh it off and ask for the manicurist to give me one dot of every color so I can say that I tried it all.

3:00 PM — Quick stop back at my apartment to change for dinner. Unfortunately, all of my stuff has been moved into the hallway outside of where I once lived because I refused to commit to anything, including paying steady rent.

3:23 PM — While searching the piles, my impeccably-curated, aesthetically-pleasing items start to spin. I don’t think what happens next is a vertigo episode, but that’s only because I am not supposed to know the definitions of any medical issues for another 8 hours and 37 minutes. When I can balance again, I notice, peeking out from under the pile of decorative Macbooks, my favorite crop-top. I flaunt it because today is the last day that I am allowed to say I like my body.

5:00 PM — I’m making the most of my last hours as a fun, free, and spontaneous twenty-nine-year-old gal. That means wine dinner, baby! Everyone knows come tomorrow I’ll have to eat real food. Only twenty-somethings can synthesize wine to get all of their daily nutrients from it. So glad I can be here with my girls, pouring wine down our gullets like seagulls storing water, ravishing ourselves with a bounty of vitamin B, protein, and literal sunlight.

10:00 PM — Time for crying in the club!!!! Through beautiful tears, I tell my friends I am crying because I don’t want to turn 30. But really, I’m crying because my body is breaking down. As I elegantly weep, my liver has ceased functionality. I have not had a routine doctor’s appointment in a decade because your twenties are about freedom and routines symbolize the death of fun. I crave a partner that can drive me to my check-ups. I dream of biting into solid foods. I so badly want to have any semblance of balance in my life, but I know that can’t happen for another two hours, because until then I need to be relatable to what Hollywood believes twenty-something, “figuring it out” audiences want to see. The clock is ticking too slowly and my body can’t handle being in my twenties any longer.

11:59 PM — Woohoo, shots!!!!!!!!!

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