Being an Adult

Well, it’s that time of year again. At the stroke of midnight, my age will increase while my egg viability and online-dating profile desirability will decrease. Life really is all about the give and the take, isn’t it?


As a soon to be 34-year-old, I like that I’m still in that Young Adult age bracket. (Notice I said “young.” Holla.) It’s the best of both worlds. For example, yes I have a mortgage, and I sometimes take joint supplements. Also yes, I did have a conversation with myself last week about whether I should finally do laundry or just buy new underwear.


(For the record, the Adult side ultimately won that round.)

It’s a strange thing, this getting older business. It creeps up on you so gradually you aren’t even aware it’s happening, and suddenly you’re throwing words around like Life Insurance Policy and finding out your favorite song from high school is 20 years old. And then sometimes the light catches you just so in the rearview mirror, and you notice the frightening and ever deepening line between your eyebrows and WHAT THE HE- -, is that a giant hair growing out of your chin?




Here’s where I’m supposed to say that growing older is a beautiful experience of self-discovery and that age is just a number and with time comes wisdom and so on and so forth. Yes, sure. It’s all those things. Growing older and becoming an Adult-Human is remarkable and magical and full of wonderful things. Things that I embrace wholeheartedly.


For example:


Being an adult means I can go to Wal-Mart at 10:30 PM and buy myself a chocolate cake for the sole reason that I CAN BUY MYSELF A CHOCOLATE cake. It means I can stay up late on a “school night” and binge watch the entire Parks and Rec series on Netflix. It means I make the rules and my paycheck is my new allowance and if I want to blow it all on one-click Amazon purchases while I’m laying in bed at night, well who’s going to stop me?


And yet:


Being an adult means that chocolate cake will stubbornly linger on my thighs for waaay longer than it would have ten years ago and it will also take at least three days to recover from a crazy night of TV watching. Being an adult is wondering how I hurt my back and if I’m saving enough for retirement and spending my “allowance” on pesky things like the electric bill and car insurance. Snooze.


Being an adult is basically like trying to fold a fitted sheet – only Martha Stewart knows how to do it, and she still ended up in jail, so…

On the bright side, I’ve got SO much more figured out than I did ten years ago. Heck, I’ve got more figured out than I did ONE year ago.


Don’t get me wrong; there are days when I feel like the awkward and insecure 13-year-old or the panicked “what am I doing with my life” college senior. Or even the 33-year-old who seems to need constant validation for everything she does. Those are usually the days when chocolate cake is purchased.


The important thing is we keep trying. We keep trying to fold that fitted sheet and embrace the changes that come with growing older. And if we can keep our sense of humor and accept the next stages of our lives, it’ll be an easier (joint supplement) pill to swallow and a heck of a lot more fun.

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1 Comment

  1. Candice M Morris July 26, 2017 at 5:26 am

    Happy birthday, my friend!!!!


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