The hot girl's guide to growing up

or, you're only as old as you feel and other lies.

Dear reader,

I turned 25 last month. That’s a quarter of a century under my belt and officially too far gone for creepy old Leonardo Dicaprio (oh no. what a shame. I’m so sad. can’t you tell.). And although I’m proud of to have made it this far and excited to live a lot more, learn a lot more and do a lot more, I just don’t feel 25.

Now, I am intensely aware that those of you reading this (thank you so much!) fall into three categories:

1. The soon-to-bes - teetering between adolescence and adulthood, for whom 25 seems eons away

2. The round-abouts - around my age, mid-twenties and about to begin reeling from some pop-culture revelations you’ll find in the paragraphs below (I’m sorry in advance)

3. The been-there-done-thats - those of you thinking “25 is so young! Write this when you’re 30, 40, 50…!”

No matter which of these you are, I hope this newsletter speaks to you in some way. This is, of course, a well trodden topic that writers (shoutout to club reticent’s fabulous piece on turning 26), poets, philosophers and anyone not preoccupied with decidedly more important things to think about has been pondering for years. But these are my thoughts on aging in the modern world as a quarter-centurion who can’t get over that they’re closer to 30 than 20.

And so, our newsletter begins on a regular Friday afternoon like any other. Me - Francesca - a 25-year old woman-child, is chatting with the new office intern.

INT. OFFICE, LONDON - DAY.

FRANCESCA It’s so weird, I still feel 21. I turned 21 in lockdown, had two covid birthdays, then one birthday on the King’s coronation - but that’s neither here nor there - so 21 is where I’m kind of stuck.

INTERN I get what you mean. I was 15 in lockdown, so it really messed with me too.

A pause. FRANCESCA stops, suddenly conscious of the last time she was ID-d, her bones aching and the fact that she should probably start using night creams, eye masks and more SPF.

FRANCESCA 15? So [PAUSE] you were born in [ANOTHER PAUSE] 2005?

INTERN Yeah!

It is at this point, dear reader, that I leave the room to have a small existential crisis. This intern looks like me, talks like me, is the same generation as me and works in my office. But she’s younger than both The Princess Diaries films. Facebook, iTunes and YouTube were invented before she was born. A quarter of her life has been lived after Covid.

Wtf.

We don’t want all this pressure that we should feel a certain way, that we’re adults which means we should be doing x, y or z.

A frontal lobe acknowledgement

For just over a year now, there’s been a huge obsession with frontal lobes, as we, the oldest zoomers, hit our mid-twenties (#frontallobes is a thing which is oh so hilarious and validating to me).

Science says that frontal lobes finish maturing around 25, with functions like ‘planning, working memory, and impulse control’ finally, finally working like they should.

I believe in science, I really do. But as Eilidh Akilade so eloquently writes for Dazed:

Turning 25 won’t magically stop you stalking your ex on Instagram or blaming your dirty dishes on your flatmate. And in any case, maturity is more about how you feel in your heart, rather than what’s going on in your head (literally). Age is just a number, after all.

What I’m talking about here is exactly that. It’s less about how our minds work, and more about our state of mind, our outlook on life and getting older. It’s not about our brain’s functionality or ability suddenly and miraculously altering to tell us not to eat a whole tub of Ben & Jerry’s when we’re 99% sure we’re lactose intolerant.

“You’re only as old as you feel!”

The titular friends of FRIENDS were 25 in the first season. Take a moment to let that sink in if you need it.

Ross was divorced, Rachel was almost married, the rest of them had all been living in the city for several years and they were in properly adult lives. Sure, they were figuring things out too, but watching them now they feel just as grown-up and aspirational as they felt when I watched the show as a teenager.

I don’t feel like an adult. I feel old-er but I also feel like I’m pretending, faking it till I make it. Making it to where? I don’t know.

In my head, I’m still 6 and wanting to spend every birthday in Disneyland. I’m still 14 and figuring out how to deal with anxiety. I’m still 19 and falling in love. I’m still 21 and realising that this is life. I’m 25 but I’m still all of those mes.

Will that ever change? Do I even want it to?

Aging seems to have become less about where we are and more about where we should be. Hence the inevitable FRIENDS existential crises that come as soon as you start to look at your life through the lens of ‘oh god they’re my age, I don’t own a monkey, I don’t have deep bonds like that with my friends, I don’t look like Jennifer Aniston.’

So much of our inability to accept getting older seems to stem from comparing ourselves to others - a particularly tricky thing to avoid when you live in a world where everyone is on such different paths. Example:

Cesca (me). 25. 3 years into my career. Cat mum. Substack writer.

Friend 1. 25. Graduating university this summer. Vet. Letters now addressed to ‘Dr..’

Friend 2. 25. Married. Two children. Posts memes about her toddlers I don’t understand.

Friend 3. 25. A literal Olympian.

I could not be a doctor, I certainly couldn’t be a parent and I definitely couldn’t be an Olympic athlete (unless carrying a lot of things in your hands because you don’t want to make more than one trip from the car to the house becomes a sport). But should I be one? Could I be better if I worked harder? Should I be starting a family before I begin the menopause which could come at any time because I once read about a woman who went through it at 26 and now I’m scared? The questions come flooding in - and that’s just within one friendship group.

In a time filled with feeds full of intimate glimpses into the lives of others, it’s even harder to separate yourself from what other people are doing, achieving and living. “Hi, I’m 21 with my own reality show, a family of 5 and several multi-million dollar businesses. And I’m younger than you!”

It goes without saying (or, maybe it doesn’t) but comparing yourself to other people is never the way to go. We all do it (if you don’t, how?/I don’t believe you) but it’s not good. If you’re comparing yourself to people who are doing ‘worse’ than you to feel better, that’s just shitty - focus on your own life. If you’re comparing yourself to people who are doing ‘better’ than you, you’re only going to make yourself feel worse - focus on your own life.

Easier said than done, I know. But once you start to accept that we really are all on different journeys, aging feels a lot less stressful and strange. It’s like a race - run it against others and you’re thinking ‘who’s ahead…who’s in front…what’s my speed…am I where I should be?’ Run it alone and you’re free from expectations. Or better still, walk it. You don’t need to be running, you can take it as slow as you want to, strolling with the people you love as you chat about how you’re feeling.

(NB: I hate running. I once came 280th in a county cross country race of 280 children when I was nine.)

Aging = good

My issues about being 25 aren’t so much about aging as they are about how old I feel. Or, more specifically, how young I feel.

As every new year rolls around, there’s the inevitable jokes that you’re getting ‘so old’, along with comments from friends about how old they’re feeling. I don’t want all this pressure that I should feel a certain way, that I’m an adult which means I should be doing x, y or z.

But I think that’s okay.

We’re not living in the past with a predestined life path of father’s house to husband’s house, marriage, kids, etc. (which is absolutely fine if that is how you are/how you want to live your life!). We’re living now, and able to do things if/when we feel ready to (whether I ever will or not is a whole other story).

Really, I’m okay with getting older. I want to. As I said at the top, I’m excited to live and learn and love a lot more. I’ve got enough buccal fat to keep me looking as young as I feel for a while longer at least. And that’s a brilliant thing.

Thank you for reading this cathartic brain dump - hopefully what you read here spoke to you in some way too. And hey, if you have any advice for a girl in semi-crisis, leave me a comment below.

Write to you soon,

~ Mrs DiCaprio Cesca

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