As a teenager, I abhorred the idea of adulthood. I would
approach each birthday with a sense of dread, like I was being marched towards
a guillotine. I remember being particularly miserable on both my 18th
& 24th birthday. The first one because it meant officially I was
now a adult, and the second, because I it meant I was skipped on the other side
of the twenties.
Not that my teenage years were any easy.
I was your regular
spotty teenager, unsure of herself, lacking confidence and always nursing a
secret crush or a broken heart. I never approached any of my crushes, I was so
sure that they would rebuff my advances. And conversely I gained a reputation
for being notoriously shy and as a result no boy ever approached me as well. I
wasn’t sure where my career was headed.