As of late, I've felt ancient - the kind of aged where you find grey hairs and wrinkles and proceed to pay exorbitant amounts of money to continue looking like a co-ed on Spring Break.
To be fair, I am only 20 years old. So maybe this is only true in the malevolent, pessimistic corners of my mind.
But there is a feeling of maturity slowly creeping upon me. It may only be a tingling feeling now, but I sense it's going to burst out of the ground at any moment. My youth is a volcanic eruption, if you will. And my metabolism and alcohol tolerance may as well be Pompeii.
Not that I haven't felt the burden of adulthood for a long time now: I was brutally rebuffed for being 'too old' for trick-or-treating at age 12 (thanks, bitchy neighbour) and it was laughable to get a youth discount on anything without a severe glare of disbelief. It's a #tallgirlproblem.
(The world seemingly wanted to kick me into real life almost immediately following puberty. How cruel.)
Adulthood is, of course, a very real thing. It is missing the feature of solidified tangibility, however. So how and when do we signify its beginning? When do the 6.99 kid's meals come to a withering end?
(The answer is never. Bring your younger niece.)
We have various means of marking this passage of time, so here are some of my favourite commemorations in no particular order. Because organisation is reserved for responsible, grown ups:
Bat Mitzvah: it may do, but at 12 years old (in my figuratively Jewish life) I had no idea what income taxes were, let alone actually paying them.
(However, I wonder how much my Hit Clips collection would have sold for..)
So that's a solid no, as far as I'm concerned.
Driver's License: Road trip! In my parent's car! Mom, can I grab some gas money?
(God forbid I ever have to parallel park.)
Thanks family for funding my various voyages, but I hardly quantify that as independence.
University: Moving out of your parent's house into residence initially sounds like a 24/7 party, with a vast gourmet selection right at your fingertips. There's also this incredible opportunity to learn from a selection of the brightest minds in the world. FAN-TASTIC: food for thought, and your appetite.
HAHAHA!
This is obviously a fleeting dream. You discover that people in general are anti-social, crazy or just intolerable. Dining hall quality control hasn't been implemented since 1972. Most tenured professors assign essays ergonomically designed to stroke their academic egos. Oh, and you call mom within a week's time to deposit more money into your account for "books."
I'll call that a resounding no for the maturity development scale.
Domesticity: people tell me (I've yet to reach this point, thank god) that when you willingly decide to stay in on a Friday night instead of a night on the town, that is when you've fully blossomed into a world of mortgage payments and babies.
I really cannot, nor do I wish to process the image of white picket fencing and toddlers. I still consider my shoe closet my best investment portfolio, so this is inapplicable to me. Kudos to you if you've landed on solid leased/mortgaged ground.
So there are clearly multitudes of ways to mark the entrance into adulthood, but for some of us perhaps there really isn't a defined line to cross. It's entirely possible that one day you just wake up at 7am and realize kegs stands can no longer be considered an extracurricular activity.
That will be a sad, sad day.
So I propose to enjoy the dwindling days left of freedom from responsibility, no matter how many or few you have. Do something ridiculous while you still can - don't be the grandparent who doesn't have fun stories to tell about 'the good old days.' That's pretty much social suicide as the Golden Girls are concerned.
avoiding orthopaedic shoes as long as possible,
Nicole xo
** I understand not everyone experiences these milestones, or treats them so dramatically juvenile. That really is the point here. The largest congratulations to you if you actually have supported yourself since age 14.**
the tongue in cheek, unapologetic and absurd life of a blonde bombshell
