How to Tell if You’re a Grown-Up

So I keep wondering when that grown-up switch is going to flip. You know, the one that will up my maturity quotient and make me suddenly think and behave like an adult.

I’ll go to bed a 28-year-old child and, overnight – flip! – I’ll wake up a 28-year-old mature adult ready and able to do mature adult things.

I’ll know it happened because instead of waking up and thinking of all the possible excuses I could give to call in sick to work (let’s see…did I already say my dog died? What about my grandma? Who else can I kill off…) and hating my alarm for existing, I’ll be a morning-loving work-ready woman of the world. I’ll eat something like a bran muffin for breakfast (to stay regular) and go for a quick run to stretch my glutes. (I don’t know what glutes are.)

I’ll jet off to work calm and rested, not hungover and pissed off. I’ll seamlessly balance being a team-player with being assertive and confidant, and all will applaud my work ethic and my many living family members and pets. (Because I’ll have stopped killing them off…you get it.)

When I get home I’ll clean the beautiful house I was able to buy after learning how to save money (and also how “mortgage” works and how one can buy a house and not actually own it for like forty years and why that makes any sense at all). And when I clean, I’ll actually clean, like with solutions and chemicals and rubber gloves, not the way I do it now, which involves a lot of pushing things under my bed and sweeping up a bunch of dog hair and then kicking it under the couch.

I’ll do laundry more than twice a month and wash my sheets more than…um…

….

Listen, I really don’t wash my sheets a lot. I won’t bore you with facts and data.

Anyway,

I’ll suddenly be able to invest money and do my taxes and know the meaning of terms like “money market account” and “disposable income” (I mean, isn’t that, like, all income? If I dispose of it all on shoes and can’t pay rent it is). I’ll do things like eat balanced meals, even on weekends, and my husband and I will eat dinner at the table instead of on the couch watching Bar Rescue.

girls

I’ll recycle and give money to charity. (And I won’t take “charity” to mean “the liquor store” like I do now.)

I’ll respond to inquiries about jury duty rather than just ignoring them and hoping the FBI has more important things to do than arrest me.

I’ll join a co-ed kickball team and we’ll spend weekends enjoying good-natured tournaments. I will not become overly competitive until everyone refuses to play with me.

I’ll stop wearing flip-flops that are impractical and I’ll start wearing sneakers everywhere, because they’re just better for you.

Obviously, my maternal instinct will kick in (it’s gotta be in there somewhere, right?) and I’ll not only be desperate for children, but have total faith in my ability to raise them to be protective members of society and not serial killers and sociopaths. I won’t think about all the drinking and traveling I can afford to do if I just avoid buying things like diapers or baby food.

I’ll stop watching things like Catfish: The TV Show and start watching things like CNN and The View.

I’ll stop sleeping in until 1:30 on weekends and instead will get up at 7am to get the most out of my day! I’ll go to bed at a reasonable hour every night, but before I do, I’ll always brush my teeth. I’ll even floss them! (That’s gonna hurt like a bitch at first, though. It’s been a while.) I’ll lotion myself up every time I get out of the shower and I’ll use eye cream under my foundation. I’ll never go to bed with a full face of makeup and false eyelashes because I’m too drunk to find a sink.

I’ll put gas in my car before the light’s been on for 27 miles.

I’ll stop using credit cards as my secret unlimited savings account.

I’ll have plans for the future that are more defined than, “Let’s figure out what we need to give up to pay rent this month.”

I’ll stop pouting. I’m a big pouter. Also, I’ll be able to kill bugs myself instead of making my husband do it while I scream in the corner.

I’ll keep up with dentist appointments and eye appointments and always get my yearly checkup. (Full disclosure: I probably haven’t been to the eye doctor in ten years, and haven’t been to the dentist in like three. Luckily I’m probably going to go blind soon, so having no teeth in my head won’t even bother me.)

I won’t even want to watch seven hours of Law and Order: SVU in one sitting while eating pints of ice cream in my pajamas. I’ll be like, “Ew, seven hours of Law and Order: SVU in one sitting while eating pints of ice cream in my pajamas? Gross. Let’s go get mammograms and colonoscopies together instead. Because we’re grown-ups and you can’t be too careful.”

growing-up

As of today, though, I’m still just a giant adult-sized infant, whining when I’m hungry and occasionally peeing myself. I’ll let you know when the switch flips.

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Anti-Aging: When Your Oldness is Simply Unacceptable

When exactly did ‘aging’ become absolutely the worst thing a woman could do?

terrifying

Anti-aging from the people who brought you Silence of the Lambs.

Seriously, watch like six minutes of commercials and you will see three ads for cars (featuring young sexy women if the ad target is men or 20-something sexy moms if the ad target is women), four ads promoting weight loss (featuring young sexy women regardless of the ad’s demographic), and approximately 78,034 ads about aging. Or, rather, the sheer depravity of actually looking as if you are aging.

Basically, if you are a woman, there is no worse thing you can do than age. Really. I mean, you can age in the literal sense, like have birthdays and stop wearing mini-skirts, but you absolutely must never age in the way that involves getting wrinkles or not being sexy. Because being sexy is, as we all know, The Most Important Thing A Woman Will Ever Do. Ever.

And aging is, as we all know, The Most Horrible Thing A Woman Will Ever Do. We know this because the tv tells us so. Think about it: at any given time, your television (and computer and phone and various billboards and store windows and busses and salespeople and magazines and celebrities) are reminding you that you pretty much look like hell. Grey hair? Dye it immediately. Blemishes or dark spots? Try this cleanser. Bags under your eyes? Cover that shit up, girl. Worry lines on your forehead? What – do you not want to get a man? Stretchmarks or cellulite? I literally just threw up in my mouth.

Look younger AND change your ethnicity!

Let’s look at the term “anti-aging” for a moment. What does that actually mean? Do you know what the only real “anti-aging” product is? A gun. And do you know what the advertisement would be? A commercial of a young, sexy woman, with long, flowy, grey-free hair, and she would lay around in peach-colored satin sheets before saying, “Want to really stop the clock on aging? Now you can!” And then she would shoot herself in the face.

Oh, and then she would die. Because anti-aging is being dead. Or it would be some freakish Benjamin Button situation in which you actually get younger and younger with each passing year, and if this happened, I can guarantee that no one would like you. Seriously. You would be like, “Omg you guys! I’ve figured out the secret to anti-aging!” And everyone would be like “Get away from me you terrifying adult toddler!”

Once your shed your old zombie skin, you can re-emerge wearing the skin of the unsuspecting human you just ate.

Once you shed your old zombie skin, you can re-emerge wearing the skin of the unsuspecting human you just ate.

See the problem here? You really can’t win. This is because the whole “anti-aging” concept is a myth. A hoax. It’s impossible. And yet, it seems to be getting worse.

Maybe our great-grandmothers didn’t have this problem because people only used to live to like 30. Maybe back then, age was revered. People were like, “Yep, made it to 42! High-five.”

Somewhere along the way, though, a woman aging became pretty much synonymous with a woman going on a puppy-murdering spree, or pooping in the heating vent, or eating your leftover Chinese food. Basically, it is NOT OKAY.

So knock it off, already. Either kill yourself or turn into a baby, because anything else is really grossing everyone out.