You know in a romantic comedy when the 57-year-old, pilates-obsessed stepmom is like, "You know, the older I get, the younger I feel" and everyone is thinking "UGH she's OBNOXIOUS"? No? Well, humor me for a minute here.
I'm gonna say it, everyone: the older I get, the younger I feel... and for the purpose of this melodramatic post, I mean that in the worst possible way.
One of the few clear memories I have from
childhood the last 26 years is drawing a picture of what I would look like as an adult. In addition to thinking I would have long blonde hair, an extensive gown collection, big boobs, and better hygiene habits, I also thought I would look radically different. Considering this is what I was working with, can you blame me?

But as I grew older and - surprise! - just looked like an adult version of that and not an entirely different person, I slowly grew to accept that fate. Nonetheless, I have this version of "adulthood" that lingers. Adults are financially independent. Adults have loving monogamous relationships. Adults have tasteful and spartan decorating in their roomy, owned homes. Adults don't get regular pimples. And just for extra measure, I seem to be going through a 2nd awkward chubby phase.
Having a child is really the only way I feel like an adult, and I even question how well I do that. In so many ways, I long for that romanticized version of adulthood. Like some day I will just wake up and be 20 pounds lighter, have flawless, glowing skin, a respectable job, and a savings account (!!!!).
That's the American Way, ain't it? Just wish and it'll be so? I know to accomplish any of this crap, I need to actually work for it. Despite my seemingly spotty work ethic, I am indeed a firm believer in working hard toward things that really matter to you. So that leaves me in an awkward spot of asking myself, "how much does this
actually matter to me?" Most of the items on my list are just BS norms and ideals, many rooted in the sexist, sizeist, classist, and ageist institutions I so staunchly oppose. It's awful seeing, and seeing clearly, that something is total
bullshit, yet still giving it power to make you feel like a garbage can.
I don't have any answers really, and I'll assume that finding them comes with that mythical savings account. But I do have any audio pep talk. Ladies, for your consideration, I present "Take Me As I Am" by Mary J. Blige:
"Put my life all up in these songs this blog, just so you can feel me, so you can get the real me"
I feel like a total cheeseball when I talk about how much I love Mary J. Blige, but shit, she tells me what I need to hear, all too often. And for all its hysterics, I actually really love this video. As simple as the lyric is, I really feel Mary J. when she says "I can only be me" and that's what I need to remind myself of all the time.
It breaks my heart that all of us probably go through some version of this. It kills me to think that my beautiful, wonderful friends might also be over-analyzing their flaws; in my eyes, you're all perfect, just the way you are. But maybe I need to grant myself that same pass... maybe we all just need to take ourselves and each other as we are.