I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet a Woman

I began serenading my friend with this classic of a Britney tune while out for my birthday this past Saturday. He's the type of guy that really appreciates a good Britney reference, so it was totally appropriate.

I'm not sure though if I believe this, but I'm sort of concerned that I'm in the awkward age where I'm definitely not a "kid" anymore (to be honest I never felt like a kid either, but thats a whole other post for another day), but am I really an adult either? It's not that I don't think of myself as a mature person. I make adult decisions every day, and good ones at that. And I know plenty of people, who are a whole lot older than me, that make terrible, terrible decisions all the time. Its just that, I don't feel like an adult yet. Which is weird...because all of the evidence tells otherwise. I'm reasonable. Responsible. I clean up nicely. I use sulfate free shampoo and conditioner. Sometimes I take vitamins. I trade recipes with other ladies. I watch the View. I know how to put on make up(I think). I bought a practical navy blue blazer because I knew it was the right thing to do. I use that spray stuff on my shoes to keep them from getting messed up in the rain. I think about(but never do)making contributions to WBUR. I'm particular about the wine I drink, and even own those nifty little wine stoppers. I listen to Bonnie Raitt.  I bring reusable bags to the grocery store(if and when I remember to). I'm an excellent tipper. I bring an offering when I go over to a friends place. I send out Holiday cards, and birthday cards on time. I pay lots of bills...I...no longer feel compelled to eat all of the ice cream sandwiches in the freezer just because they are there until they are all gone. I don't even eat chocolate after 9pm because I'm concerned with falling asleep at a reasonable hour. I eat salads. And I now, all of the sudden, I love seltzer.

Maybe I am an adult.

So this is kind of funny...as I'm writing this my boyfriend asks me what I'm going to write about, and makes a comment assuming that I'm going to write about the shelves that we just put up. Am I really that predictably boring that I'm going to write about fucking shelves?

YES!

So then I tell him that no, I'm going to write about the perils of realizing you're an adult. To which he makes a terribly distorted and horrified face (mind you he's 7 years older than me) and says "Is it because of the shelves? We could take them down."

See we were really excited about getting these shelves up in the kitchen, and we're now very enthusiastically talking about where else we can squeeze in more shelves around the condo. Shelves! They're not just for throwing your shit onto anymore! But actually, thats exactly what they are there for, and its why we put them up. See, a few months ago, I did a very adulty kind of thing. I moved in with my man. Ya wanna talk about adulthood? Try living with your boyfriend or girlfriend. You talk about the most boring stuff sometimes, but really, all those boring things are so awesome to talk about with someone other than your self. I used to sit in my room in my past apartments for hours, throwing my voice around the room in an attempt to mimic a two person conversation about the lighting, or where to hang the paintings. And although it kept me entertained, it also made me sad. Cause I was talking to myself. 

So now I have someone to discuss domestic shit with on a daily basis. Sometimes we get on a roll about a certain product that we're really digging these days for its many utilitarian uses, and its great low prices and high value and shit, and I have to stop and ask when the camera crew is going to arrive, because we're clearly rehearsing for the filming of a very bad and very lame infomercial. I'm kidding, but only kind of, in that way that I'm not kidding at all, because I, Hayley Ryan, am turning into a domestic goddess.

And its a this very moment, that I have realized, I'm not a girl. I'm a woman.

Now before you all send me hate mail, take it easy. I'm all for girl power and stuff. I definitely don't think that women belong in the home at all(the world would be a better place if all the women went to work and all men stayed home anyway, am I right?), and I certainly don't sit around making my man sandwiches and folding his socks all day. In fact, some times I purposefully miss match his socks just to get a rise out of him. I'm that kind of a domestic goddess. Which I guess makes me kind of childish. See, not really an adult yet. 

But I discovered something about adulthood years ago, which makes it much easier for me to accept that sometimes turning into an adult never really even happens anyway. I began to notice, through observing the "adults" around me, that adults are really just old looking 19 year olds.  (19 year olds are def not real adults but can do everything adult can do:  they're are legally responsible for themselves, can purchase smokes and porn, and we all know that if you really desire the ability to buy alcohol, that you don't actually need to be of age. Just resourceful.) It began when I was in college and all the influential people in my life who had always held some kind of standard around me began to let their hair down. I had finished high school and made it to college, and all of the sudden it was like we were all on the same level. And believe it or not, I'm not just talking about my parents. When people older than you suddenly realize that you're beyond the age of being impressed upon, they become terribly obvious in their own faults. When your young and impressionable, its like they owe it to you to be good people. To take it easy on the language, to have a positive outlook, make it seem like they make good decisions around you, to NOT tell you that story about the time they were studying abroad and almost arrested while smoking weed on a park bench(oh wait, that was me!). Anyway, I told my mom that story when we were both of age to just be ourselves around one another. Cause you know what? Adults are equally as idiotic as teenagers, and they can be just as mean, selfish, indulgent and petty, too. They just allege this bullshit sage wisdom, because they've  "been there, done that".

So I guess its a good thing that I'm a fantastic bullshitter. Because I'm pretty sure that is precisely what will make me a good adult.