On Tuesday it was my 26th birthday. Unlike my other half who will be hyperventilating come his 30th, getting older does not freak me out - although I think I might start screening out any potential new 'younger' friends. But this year I did feel a little funny about it. And not one to let such a prime opportunity pass by, Chris took great pains to pick my birthday card this year.
Scanning over anything vaguely romantic that might act as a nod to our impending nuptials, he not only picked up the very first card he's ever given me referring to 'old age', but in fact the first one I have ever received. Ever.
Perhaps he forgot about turning 28 in December?! Watch out Mr Strong...
Anyway, I think the real reason behind my birthday-related worries is because I have now reached the age I will be when I become a Mrs.
And I don't feel any wiser, or any more or less ready than I did last year, or the year before that, or the year before that.
But, on the other hand, it is hugely exciting. Every girl has some kind of a plan - any ladies who deny it are probably lying - concerning life's milestones, namely babies and marriage. And I guess this is my first step.
So this time in ten months, yes just ten months, I will be a 26-year-old wife... one who is, hopefully, still on her honeymoon. And this gives us approximately three years before we move to stage two of Gemma's life plan. But we are definitely not ready to talk about that just yet.

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