When I grow up does it mean I have to stop doing this...?

I don’t want to grow up. I’m approaching (with way too much haste) my 21st birthday.

Does 21 mean I am a grown up? If I so choose I’ll be able to apply to adopt a child, get a pilots license, apply for a provisional license for a heavy goods vehicle and supervise a driver with a provisional license (if you’ve been able to driver for three years)………………………….tumble weed.

And in 110 short days I will be graduating.

Graduating is something I have welcomed pretty much since I began my training at the Northern School of Contemporary Dance, but now that it’s ACTUALLY HAPPENING, I’m more than a little flustered! I won’t lie- there are still some things that I cannot wait to see the back of, and I welcome with the openest of arms the reunion of all my friends moving back home! And in moving back home I also welcome the idea of having a real dinner every night! I’ve had a lot of drama and a lot of doubt and a lot of crying in the past few years but I’ve also had a lot of the best things too, I’m beginning to realize the good outways the bad and I really am sad to grow up and move away from this little life I’ve built with my friends in Leeds! Also I have no idea what I want to do with my life (very scary indeed).

However my biggest fear leaving university, getting my first job, growing up and moving back home is the possibility that it means I can’t…

Dress up as a cat pretty constantly with no apparent reason

TP myself in a public toilet…again with no apparent reason

Paint myself green and pretend I’m Elphaba from Wicked…

Look like this…

Look like THIS

Cook my first ever proper meal away from home… (It took me a while!)

Dress up as a mountain ranger and do whatever on Earth is happening here!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let my best friend play hair dresser and experiment with new styles…

Only realize half way through a day people I have been walking around with a blue leg and that is what those strangers were laughing at…

Have a mustache…

 Go dancing in the rain with as little clothes as acceptable…

Run around backstage at a drag show and make the drag queens less than happy…

Do THIS

And THIS

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Fortunately I don’t have picture evidence of the worst of times!

I may have mixed feelings about this next adventure but I can’t wait to drink too much wine with my best friend and think I’m a supermodel on a regular basis again (if that’s allowed when you’re grown up?!)

Jess xxx