Quarter life crisis in full swing

So I feel like I have been fairly low-key about my quarter life crisis. Oh you didn't know already? Yeah I'm going through a quarter life crisis. See the reality of it is, is that you never turn 24, no sir-rey you don't. You turn 'I'm going to be 25 next year' there is no 24 kids. So wipe that off the list of numbers your teacher told you about. So when your teacher asks be sure to tell them 4 x 6 = 25 next year.

I have acknowledged the fact that I am experiencing a quarter life crisis, just look at the title of the blog and you will realise this is a shrine to my current phase. So I just want you to know I totally realise what I'm doing right now, but I had not truly realised the extent of my behaviour... until a couple of weeks back.

So I signed up for a motorbike lesson. I mean, I've always wanted a motorbike but there's always been a parent/guardian/common sense standing in the way. And now that I'm approaching 25 those factors don't matter anymore. So I was kind of hoping to channel a Britney-Spears-esq persona. Sexy leathers, red hair flowing in the wind, straddling some ripped black man.

Unfortunately my experience on a motorbike was nothing like the picture above. Britney made it look easy, she probably had a green screen too. Nope, my experience was more similar to the below picture, confusing yet hard to look away from.

So I showed up to my lesson in my cutest outfit consisting of real leather jacket (SORRY MOO-COWS BUT YOUR SKIN FEELS SO GOOD AGAINST MINE), 7 jeans, puma's, and white tshirt. I was like totally biker-chic, ya know?

The guy takes one look at me and already decides I can't ride a motorbike and informs me I need to "Zip up my jacket and do a basic balance test" at this stage I'm thinking "Well, screw it I've already failed" so I go to zip up my jacket, and no word of a lie, THE ZIPPER BREAKS!!!!!11!!11!1!!!ONE!!

So I'm standing there with my zip in my hand feeling very much like a soon-to-be-25-year-old fool. The news of my broken zipper does not improve the mood of my belligerent instructor and he just looks at me and sighs. I feel like a failure. Next minute, I am tossed onto a motorbike without so little instruction and pushed around (the motobike is turned off there's just some guy pushing me on it, reminiscent of my first bicycle experience) by mr grumpy instructor's assistant.

It is in this moment, while I am being pushed around on an idling motorbike with a broken zipper that I realise how uncool I am. Internally, I weep.

But I am then told by angry face instructor that I have excellent balance. YEAH THAT'S RIGHT BITCHES. And I spend the rest of the afternoon recovering from my bad start and working on my excellent motorcycle skills.

So yeah, I have a motorcycle licence now. Shit is getting real. Reel real.

I recommend you watch this space for more motorcycle updates. I promise hilarity xx