I just turned 20 about a week ago and as I was blowing out the candles on my 10,000 calorie vanilla flavored cake, all I could think was, “I‘m not a teen anymore, but I’m not yet a woman.” Now I know how Britney felt.

My only wish was that the next twelve months whizz by so I can finally be 21.

Don’t get me wrong – I was excited that I will no longer be labelled as a teenager. But being 20 still means that I can’t get into most clubs without using my sister’s ID, or drink myself to oblivion (without my sister’s ID).

I’m tired of my friends having to plan their birthdays or events around the fact that I’m not yet 21 and can’t get into a 21 and above club. Sure, some clubs don’t check IDs when the bouncers think you look older, but  I’m a 20 year old who looks like a 16 year old, so there’s no way that works for me. And the few times I tried, I spent the whole time stressing about whether the bouncer would notice that I wasn’t looking him in the eye, or wearing layers and layers of makeup that made me look like a drag queen.

Once I did get in, I would be so paranoid that someone would notice that I was under age and would have me kicked out of the club that I never had much fun. Not to mention the fact that nervousness, adrenalin, those disco lights and the 2,000 other sweaty people gyrating on the dance floor created a serious drag makeup meltdown. Read More »