Last night, a friend and I took a spin through Target’s Aisle of Your Early Thirties.
I think it’s technically called the “Bridal and Baby Shower Gift Wrap” aisle, but let’s not split any hairs. Every option made me want to shoot my eye out, punch somebody, or weep. Perfect little wrapping-paper baby butts. Fairy tale weddings. Faux-engraved invitations. Pastel storks. And that was the tasteful stuff. The Aisle of Your Early Thirties presented such a skewed and cutesy view of adulthood that I could only respond in one way: shrugging and going out for a tasty beer.
Life doesn’t go according to plan. It’s trite because it’s true. Schedules are for suckers. And we all have those moments where we realize adulthood is in full swing…and that sometimes it’s going to swing on without us. It’s hard to not feel left behind. But then I remember how important it is to live life at your own speed, and to hell with everyone else.
At 32, I’m about to make a more solid income than, well, ever. It’s terrifying, as being underemployed, befuddled and broke have been such major parts of my identity. I’m saving for retirement, paying down student loans, and no longer eating Taco Bell over the sink. I avoid hard liquor on school nights, toxic friends, and anyone who refuses to take me seriously. This is my show, and I’ll run it however I want.
Of course, I should probably have had this epiphany five or even ten years ago. Five years ago, I was a lady of leisure in Bogota. Ten years ago, I was crashing in my college town. Neither scenario really lends itself to personal growth.
Then again, I think the biggest mark of maturity is no longer waiting around for a soul-scorching insight. I don’t seek out those tiny moments where everything makes sense, because I know now that it’s a process that will likely never end. And I’d be bored out of my mind if it ever did.
And to think, all this is just because I couldn’t find a Metro-accessible Babies ‘R Us.
In the comments, tell me about your most recent, "Dear God, I'm a grownup!" moment.