I’m 30.
I don’t know how it happened or where I thought I’d be, but somehow, without any express consent or proper warning, it snuck up on me, jumped on my back, and rode me into a blinding and disorienting dawn.
It’s not a pairing of numbers I prepared myself for. I hadn’t really thought about it leading up to the “big day” and *I haven’t really had time to think about it since
(*by “not having time”, I mean that I have chosen to lull myself into detachment with the rhythmic repetition of other things like playing games on my cell phone and voraciously checking my email.)
But the one thing that I HAVE struggled with in the past couple of weeks has been dealing with a phrase that has been ringing in my ears non-stop since May 1 – a phrase I have been so inundated with, that it’s as though everyone I know has been walking around with a loaded pistol just waiting to pull the trigger on these 4 small, powerful words.
“It’s not cute anymore.”
The amount of times I have been assaulted with this sentence is nothing short of staggering. Its use is simple and biting and can be used in a variety of stealthy ways:
Case in point:
“So Gina…When are you going to get a real job? Because this little hobby is not cute anymore…”
“Gina, when are you going stop dating like a teenager and get married? Because this 'independent'crap really is not cute anymore.”
“Gina, when are you going to move out of that teeny little apartment and get a respectable place? Because, seriously?…NOT CUTE ANYMORE!”
The weaker part of me should let these questions penetrate my very foundation. I should look to these people as prophets, soothsayers, who have gleaned a peak into my future and have come rushing back in time to warn me about the impending doom that my own hubris and sense of elastic time will bring down upon me.
“You think you’re immortal, Gina?” they’ll shriek, “With your H&M clothing and bed-in-the-living room playfulness?? Not so! You better grow up fast and start living like an adult, OR ELSE-”
…But the nightmare always stops there.
Or else what? Or else I’ll continue to age with the some feeling of youth and optimism?...And then maybe pass that same sense of joy and calm down to a tiny human being when (but not a second before) it's the right time to do so? Yeah…maybe they’re right.
All this energy, hope, excitement, and possibility I still feel…I should let it go and just...grow up.
Aww, Screw it. I'll always choose happiness and discovery...
Over a bedroom with a door and the chance to be called cute again...
