I’M 25…EWW David.

I’M Back!

I was just filling out some tedious paperwork this morning and was going through the name, age, height, weight, filled it out, and it hit me. Holy moly, I’m 25 years old! “EWWWWW  DAVID”

Saying 25 out loud sounds illegal. So naturally, I had to stop and reflect a bit like the journal enthusiast that I am. I’m a 25-year-old single gal and proudly not ready to mingle in the South Bay. I’m a gal who is still not into makeup. I’ve been on a volleyball court my whole life; haven’t seen many makeup kits out there. I’m proud to say I can curl my eyelashes. However, I think I’ve been curling them too much. I have about four hairs on each lash now. Which I guess is good cause it saves me mascara, the second and last thing I know how to apply.  

So yeah – 25 – not into dat makeup thing.  

Since we’re on the topic of appearance, I chopped my hair post-Olympics. You can say that I wanted to just spice things up a bit or that I wanted to be more like one of my favorite players, Laura Ludwig. Maybe both. Regardless, my do now looks like a combination of Laura Ludwig/Morgan Wallen mullet vibe. I love it. Plus – Laura is having another baby, so she’ll be out for a bit on Tour. Someone has to keep her name alive. I’ll do my best. 

Twenty-five has brought some surprises, like the smile lines setting up camp on my face. Tent, campfire, and all, not looking to leave any time soon. I know these are good lines to have; they show a life well enjoyed. But if I could talk to God, I’d kindly ask Him to place them when I’m on the north side of 35. Pretty please? I mean, I’ll get over it. I’ll have to. I don’t make enough money for plastics and botox. 

This takes me to another topic – money…  

I know. *yawn* Stay with me.

I am a minimalist at heart. Throughout my college career, I never decorated my room once. Ask any of my college roommates – if I ever needed to evacuate my dorm room due to a zombie apocalypse, I could be packed up and out in 15 minutes. 

I didn’t want to spend the money, had a fear of it. I managed to squeeze by and survive off five bathing suit bottoms on Tour all of 2019. They were practically falling off by the end of the season. I have worn the same two visors over the past four years, apart from the Olympics. 

I took my parents’ oft-asked question, “Do you need it, or do you want it?” to an extreme. At 25, I’m that person who needs reassurance from her mom every time she purchases something. Even clicking the “buy” button on Amazon has me overthinking. I’m getting better as time goes on, and I know there are worse weaknesses to have. Ultimately, I’m proud of the positive life changes I’ve made upon entering 2022. 

For starters, I finally used some money to decorate my apartment. Big deal for me. My roommate moved out mid-summer, taking everything but an ancient lamp in the corner of the living room. One single lamp. At least it worked. That was a plus. 

My apartment sat pretty empty for several months. Upon returning to the Hermosa bubble at the beginning of 2022, I wanted to make it homey. The kind of homey that makes you actually want to be there. 

My old minimalist mindset made my living space so dull. I was in that phase of,

“I’ll do anything to avoid being in my house. Anything. Need your lawn mowed? I’m on it. Want to go on a two-hour Strand walk? Be there in five.” 

I finally had an epiphany. Time to make my apartment homey and cozy. So I made my first big-girl purchase: a nice, comfy couch. 

After that catalyst, I was on a roll. I invested in a better mattress and a desk that I sit at every day, feeling like the CEO of my own company. I just want to give my mom a round of applause right now. She always said, “Make your place feel like a home, honey. It makes all the difference in your life.” Mother always knows best.  

It’s crazy – now that I have a smoking hot couch, a cool desk, and a kitchen table, I’ve transformed into an Olympic cleaner. Not that I was ever that messy, but having my own things, not piggy-backing off of all my roommates’ furniture, it truly makes you want to clean, vacuum, dust your CEO desk. It feels incredible when the house looks and smells good when you walk through the door! #grateful

As I continued to reflect on being 25, I realized insurance is super confusing, no matter what kind it is. It should’ve been a pre-requisite since the 1st grade. Kindergarten is where you learn to say the alphabet, read and build blocks. But once you hit 1st grade, you’ve built enough blocks. Kids should be turning their books to chapter 1: What the hell is insurance, and why is it important? 

I’m serious. Insurance is equivalent to when I was in high school reading a Shakespearean play. I read all the cryptic words, patted myself on the back cause I “read” it, went to class, and had absolutely NO idea what just happened. Insurance is just like that. You listen to people try to explain insurance to you, then you get off the phone, and immediately you think to yourself, “WTF just happened?”  

You could be on the phone with your insurance company, get directed to four different people in four different departments, sit on hold, hang up the phone and your questions were never answered. I’m sure people are in the grave still on hold from their insurance companies. I could go on and on, but all I can say is I’ll gladly go back to 1st grade to learn all about it. Sign me up. I’ll give you my name, date of birth, credit card, whatever you need. 

So yeah… 25. I’ve got a couch, a desk, and zero clue about insurance. It’ll get better. Maybe I’ll start an insurance club, a book club, but all we talk about is insurance. I’ll keep ya posted. 

Anyway, really, truly, 25 has been quite great so far.  

Till next time. Gotta go finish filling out that paperwork.