Confessions of A Naughty Girl

24 Going on 14

I'm back, bitches. It only took three weeks, two ear sponges, 14 fluid ounces of aluminum ear drops, 40 hours of catch-up sleep, and 3 "trips" to my acid-dropping doctor, but I am back with a clear head and 94% of my hearing back. Hooray! And, per the usual, I have a lot to say.

Whether it's the 110-degree heat that has been causing sweat to emit from body parts I never knew existed, or the billions of Trapper Keepers and random school supplies begging to be plucked off of the shelves wherever I go, back-to-school season always makes me sad and nostalgic. When I graduated with my Master's a little over a year ago, I was elated at the thought of never having to take a test again. What I didn't realize, however, was that I wasn't just losing the butterflies-in-stomach feeling when a pop quiz was announced, but that I would never be involved in the culture of school again. No embarrassing thrill from having brand-new binders, no need for finding a new messenger's bag, just the day-in, day-out monotony of work. Work that I have to do in order to survive. Work is not optional anymore, an after-school job where you work with cute boys that you actually have an excuse to talk to, and where you get to spend your hard-earned money on beer, smokes, drugs, clothes, or whatever your manifestation of choice. Oh no, now you work with old people. Old people who have pictures of kids on their desks. Old people who eat frozen Weight Watchers meals for lunch. Old people whose topic of choice is not who hooked up with who at someone's house last weekend, but how cute and apologetic little Tommy was when he spit up his juice and simultaneously shit his pants at a family dinner. And then they whip out the digital pictures...

When I was 14, I thought that by 24, I would definitely be married, and on my way to having a first kid, or even a second kid. I would have met my very cute, filty rich husband somewhere during or right after college, and we would get married, combine our $150K household income (from our C-suite, executive-level jobs), buy a nice house with granite countertops, and begin procreating, stopping every once in a while to get away for a two-week paid vacation to somewhere either tropical, or at the very least, European.

Instead, all I have to show for my glamorous, jet-set life is a string of awkward romantic situations and relationships, 10,000 frequent flier miles to and from the Akron-Canton airport, a pantry full of canned chicken noodle soup, and a cool red couch in my apartment.

The truth is, I actually did meet someone in college who I was with for a long time, and quite honestly, could have been engaged and married by now if I really wanted. I probably could have the husband and be working on the kids. But I was not ready to settle down when I was 20, and looking back, I would have made the same choices all over again. I find it challenging enough to take care of myself and balance work with a "life", plus finding time for all of life's little minutiae, like paying bills and getting my car's oil changed. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want have to coordinate making it work with someone else's life, too.

And, again, there is the missing of the childhood. In the past few weeks, I have slept in until noon on weekends, gone to Rock-and-Bowl, spend a good $5 in quarters on pool and foosball with my "3 M's" - Matt, Mario, and Mike, and, just now, returned from the grocery store armed with snack-pack pudding, peanut-butter-and-jelly, Fruit Roll-Ups, and Magic Shell ice cream topping to pack for the days that I don't have client lunches at work this week. F*ck it, I'm done being a grown up - for as much as I don't have to be one. I am going to fight this aging thing for as long as I possibly can.

I think this whole wanting-to-be-a-kid again phase is the backlash result of the many "big-girl" choices I've made in the last few months. Between picking up and moving to a new city, starting a new job, making new friends, and somehow trying to keep my life together, it's been a wild ride. Plus, it's an age thing. I have seen a lot of friends head into 25 clenching their fists and wide-eyed with terror, wondering if they've made the right decisions. I am definitely starting to feel that now. (And sorry guys, if I was unsympathetic then - karma is a bitch.) And I'm glad even if I only have a nice red couch to show for the past five years, because you know what? With all of the soul-searching I still feel I have to do, I wouldn't want anyone else to claim that couch as theirs. I'm just not ready for it.

So as I fold my load of whites, I realize that maybe I'm not a retard for buying fun stuff to pack lunches with, or watching "Laguna Beach" religiously at 10 pm on MTV every Monday night. I'm kind of lucky to be able to do regress into my childhood with the wisdom and experience of having gone through high school and college. And I'm pretty happy with the way I've turned out. I think the best is yet to come, really. Or at least that's what I tell myself as I reach for another bowl of ice cream after dinner...

posted by KA @ 7:33 PM