Birthdays are supposed to be fun.

Turning 21 seems like a stressful coming of age ritual though.

Firstly, my family gave me a watch. This is the traditional coming of age gift that my family gives. When I graduated high school they gave me one. This time, they gave me another one. They also gave me one when I started my period but maybe that was just because the internet providers had coincidentally sent us a free watch in the mail that day.

I also inherited two watches from my grandmother when she died and in case anyone has noticed that that adds up to five watches which is three more than the number of wrists I have......well, I have already broken all five of them. Yes, the strap on the new one came off around thirty seconds after the wrapping paper.

I wear a cheap watch held together by rubber bands. And my glasses are held together by superglue.

I don't think I am ready to come of age.

Secondly, my mother asked me if I'm dating anyone. When I said no she asked me if I'm gay. When I said no she calmly said I wouldn't know. She asked me if I liked anyone and thanks to force of habit I said ......well I said no. Dammit. Me and my brother figured out years ago that saying no to this question was the best thing to do. If you say yes she follows you around the house and asks you a hundred questions about the looks/intelligence/career prospects of the 'liked one'.

Seems like she's spent these years developing a new set of questions to ask if you say no. ARE YOU GAY? SERIOUSLY? That's what she came up with? Owch.

Then against all rules of Indian parenting she tells me there is no way in hell she's finding me a groom.

I black out for a second and then realize MARRIAGE is what she is thinking about.

"I don't even like the clothes you pick for me, how on earth would you find a boy for me? "

"True. That's a relief.........I'll support you if you're gay but I want grandchildren." (yes mom. let's stick to that. i'm gay. katy perry background music.)

Holy craaaap. I'm old.