Turning one means your parents CAN stop referring to you in months, but they won't.

Turning five means you proudly fill out one hand when asked your age and can talk back more than your parents would like.

Turning 10 means you've finally reached double digits and it's the only thing anyone will say to you, "Whhooaaa double digits!" You can't wait for the year to be over.

Turning 13 means your finally teen, but you've been acting like one since you were 11.

Turning 16 means, in most states, you can start driving; it’s also the time when you start pushing boundaries, acting like a true teen and would kill for a Sweet 16 party.

Turning 18 means you can vote, you're probably leaving the nest for the first time and call yourself an adult all time, but don't actually act like one.

Turning 21 means you can FINALLY legally drink. That's it.

Turning 22 means you can relate to that one Taylor Swift song which is actually about you, and no one else. And it’s the first time you begin to stare adulting in the face.

Turning 25 means nothing more than you're a quarter of a century old, which sounds hideous, and you can rent a car.

So what could be worse than that?

Turning 26.

Turning 26 means you're officially closer to the 30 than 20. At this age adulting is alive and well, and scaring the actual shit out of you; that girl in the well has nothing on adulting. And oh yea, wrinkles show up and your body quits.

I’m 26 and feel as if I’m constantly fighting for my youth and accepting adult responsibilities. I’ve been holding onto the rumor that 30 is the new 20, and a part of me really believes that. The economy and other annoying things out of our control, have held this generation back from accomplishing milestones such as getting that steady well-paying job out of college, which would allow us to leave our parents’ house and possibly settling down with a significant other; a path generations before were able to accomplish much sooner. Now it’s not to say that there isn't a population of young adults achieving just that, but it's just a much smaller percentage than in older generations.

This phenomenon is called emerging adulthood—I learned this fun fact in college. Essentially I was told that after college spreading my wings into the real world was going to take smidge longer than I had hoped. So this notion has led, or so I suspect, to the rumor that 30 is the new 20.

So because of all of this, socially 30 is looking good as the new 20, but my body hasn’t quite gotten the memo. Turning 26 I noticed that my body decided to just give up. I’ve never been naturally thin, but I rarely worried about my arms staying tone or my butt staying upright. But when 26 showed up my butt fell down and my arms decided they no longer needed to stand firm. GREAT! Not to mention I was told to start using anti-wrinkle creams at 26 and grey hairs felt like it was a good time to start reflecting in the light.

My age socially and my age physically are on different pages and it’s a fun struggle that I think many of us will be battling until menopause storms in and claims victory over both. Nonetheless, as hyper as I can get about trying to succeed as an adult while maintaining youthful looks, I've tried to slow down and savor the moments that count. I'm not getting any younger, but I'm not dead. As I've gotten older I've been able to create magical moments with friends, family and my love. I've traveled up and down the United States, been to numerous memorable concerts, such as seeing The Rolling Stones before they kicked the bucket, as well as been a present adult working my way through this sometimes crazy world. My mid-twenties have taught me to embrace the good, let go of the bad and work hard for a a future I believe in. So I will continue to take pride in making car payments on time, as well as light up someone tells me I look 19.

I know age is just a number, but it sure has a terrible way of messing with you!