At the tender age of 29 (and 36 months), studies would suggest that I am in fact a grown up. Indeed the stack of bills, the stretch marks and a compulsion to actually watch the news as opposed to whining ‘oh no not the news, that’s so boring’ would support that fact. My wardrobe, interests, and the fact that I find the poo emoji an appropriate (and hilarious) reply to any tweet or text could be construed as evidence to the contrary but hey, I don’t think there will ever be a time then the poo emoji is not appropriate and hilarious!
But I am not alone in this quandary. Social media and group chats amongst my peers struggle to pinpoint the moment at which one becomes an adult. Is it the kids? The mortgage? The receding hairline? Is it the exclamation of ‘what are you, 12’? (the only appropriate reaction when faced with a Doctor, police person, CEO of a major company that appears younger than oneself), or that of ‘isn’t so-and-so looking really old’? But they’re my age. MY AGE!’
Placed right at the crux between ‘generation Y’ and the ubiquitous ‘millenials’, I look to my left and too my right and find hordes of people who just refuse to grow up and I find this, quite frankly, totally fantastic! Because retaining ones youth means grabbing life by the proverbials. It means not being afraid to have fun, but wanting to make a difference. It means being able to party all night and work all day, even if a lunchtime under the desk nap is required. It means staying current, remaining relevant, and not being afraid to learn new things. It means that it is never ever too late to be who you feel you are in your core, and to do what you need to make it happen. These gifts no longer come with an expiration date. They are for everyone.
Not quite the teenage dirtbag, at 29 (and 36 months), I will tentatively admit to a degree of maturity. I’ve done a lot of growing up. I am more comfortable in my own skin. I’m not afraid to say what I think. I never assume that I am better or worse than anyone else because of class, gender, race or ability. I’m happy to admit that I don’t know everything (as in my teenage years) and that’s okay. I want to leave this world having left a positive mark, or certainly give it all I’ve got.
Because as long as we have silver surfers, strong professionals in their 70’s, and Debbie Harry still looking like a goddess in nearly her 8th decade, I’m happy to put on my grown up training wheels. I know I’ve got much to look forward to and much to enjoy on my way there.