Well, besides trying to kill the lost boys when they got old, that is. But the whole not wanting to grow up thing is the right track of life.
Last weekend, my dear sweet huzzy and I made a trip to the zoo. I was ecstatic, he wasn’t. I had a grand ol time petting all the furry babies in the petting zoo and walking around taking pictures, occasionally ohhhhing and aweing over all the cute little hairy angels and exclaiming that I want at least one of each at my home. On the way home we listened to music from my phone and The Used came on. And I love them. I listened to them when I was still in my angsty teenage years. Whilst listening to the pulsating melodies pumping from my speakers, he looks over and jokingly asks me if I am a little too old to be listening to this still.
Jump to the next day I believe, we are sitting in my sisters house and someone brings up the fact that I have tattoos and a nose ring at my job (its a pretty nice office job) and he jokingly again says maybe I am a little too old to be sporting a piercing not in my ears, and the need for continuing my tattoos. Now, he wasn’t being ugly or rude to me I would like to point out. But it got me thinking about “Growing Up”.
Namely, when do we know we are grown? Is it when we move into our own home? Drive away in our new car? Walk out of our first day at a new career? Hold our baby that we created in our arms? Watch the last Harry Potter movie? How do you even know? I am almost 23 and I have no clue about how to tell if I am grown or not. I hate saying it, but its pretty tough.
And I understand certain things like, maybe certain clothes should be for specific age groups (I am looking at you, 49 year old in nothing but leggings and a training bra with tank) but band tee’s? And I am not talking iconic bands like The Beatles or Nirvana, although in my humble opinion if you are unable to name at least 3 albums and 10 songs you better put it back down in the bin at Hot Topic that you picked it out of, I am talking like One Direction
(too soon to say Bye Felicia to whichever one left?) or I dunno, your band of choice? Or like, cat shirts? I am the proud owner of 3, and my collection is always growing (my birthday is next month *hint hint*) and I wear them all the time. Am I supposed to stop at age 30? Does my nose ring come out at 27? How do you tell? Tattoos are forever so I am not too worried about that but I have had a few people tell me that my fabulous tattoo of a certain mermaid (while looking banging now) might look like a sea hag when I turn 40. And I thought about that before I got it, but clearly I didn’t care too much.
We are constantly bombarded with messages of individuality and being yourself, but it almost feels like once you hit 25 you’re expected to only shop at target with your non-hip hugging khaki pants and your cardigans and boat shoes with your sensible hair cut and wrist watches. And please don’t think I am ragging on those of you (the group of 3 people that read this) that dress like this because I pinky promise you I am not. If that’s your thing, you betta own it!
I guess what I am saying is, how do you know when you need to change everything? Cause yet again, I have yet to find a manual on aduting.