When I was 10, I had this picture of what my life would be like at 27. I would be engaged, working a busy, important job - probably in New York - with a killer heel collection and permanently sipping on cosmos or martini’s.
Well, here I am on my 27th birthday, currently unemployed, I think I still have 2 pairs of heels back in Brisbane, the only ring I have sits on my pinkie and my first and last cosmo was on my 18th birthday (after I decided it tasted like washing powder).
Back then, I never really pictured myself living out of a backpack and spending all my savings on flights instead of heels.
But I’d like to think baby-me would be pretty happy with where I am now instead.