Why I am not yet a Grown-Up

A fantastically flattering question I get asked often by my students:

“Miss Eva….Are you a kid? Or a Grown Up?”

Considering I still do things like eat cake for breakfast, I can see where the confusion comes from. In additional news, I still do not know how to answer this question properly.

YES. Yes I am a grown-up.

(???)

Because I do things like write checks, shop for insurance, and figure out my taxes. I also own a vacuum and can cook a whole turkey. I feel this is a socially acceptable definition of being “grown-up.” Nevermind that one of my teenage students had to explain what a mortgage was to me the other day. Do I need one? No, no I do not.  Problem solved.

I’ve lived on my own for the last 2 years of my life, and have managed to not yet set anything on fire.  I love my apartment and my purple bathroom. I know things about wine, own original art and many tubes of lipstick. I am a grown up on paper, and as much as I like the idea, I’m glad I’m not one.

I have almost zero responsibilities, except the ones that I choose for myself. I haven’t settled in to anything, as nice as that sounds, and relish the idea of being able to reinvent myself whenever possible. I don’t really have to answer to anyone- I can buy as many pairs of impractical shoes as I want. And if I want them to live on my bookshelf, they can. And, in defense of single gals everywhere: just because I enjoy having fun, special things in my life doesn’t make me vapid or less of a contributing member of society. I have a tremendous amount of respect for those “grown ups” out there that can find the value in young people. Even better, those that haven’t let the energy of being a total kid get away from them. I hope to be like them someday.

In moments of doubt, I try to remember what a good friend of mine said: “It’s okay. We’re cooler than a lot of people.”

sex-and-the-city

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