Being a grown up is kind of awesome -- IN THEORY.
See, on paper? being a grown up is just the single kickassiest thing that ever happened. But in reality...
I figure this is mostly the fault of other grown ups telling us lies through their braces-free teeth when we were younger. We were told so much about our future lives; we were promised so many wonderful, glittering things. And it always started with “when you’re a grown up...”
Well, mom?
I’m a grown up!
Where’s my breakfast cake?
No, see, that doesn’t happen. Because I’m a grown up.
DO YOU SEE the catch-22? Do you see where this went hopelessly awry? No? I’ll explain:
You see, here we are, merrily trudging our way through childhood.
And then we’re adolescents.
And all the while, we’re told “no, you can’t” and “when you’re an adult, you can do whatever you want, but right now FILL IN BLANK”.
Then, BOOM.
But by the time we reach adulthood, we have BECOME THE NAYSAYERS. We can’t enjoy it! We now know that having cake for breakfast is bad for us, no matter how fun it sounds in the moment. We stopped living in the NOW and suddenly we’re worried about FUTURE THINGS.
(because space travel is a more interesting future thing panel than mortgage payments)
There was so much pressure riding on our adulthoods they couldn’t possibly live up to the hype. We were assured that we’d be acne free and beautiful (Fuck you, Hans Christian Andersen).
We were told we could wear PAJAMAS to SCHOOL once we got to college.
There was a promise of never-ending waked-ness, of no bedtime at all! Of being able to ride a bike without a helmet! Of never taking a bath again! Of being FREEEEEEEEE.
BUT NONE OF THIS TRUE! Our crushing realization that we have “jobs” and must “interact” with other “people” (who are probably just as disappointed with adulthood as you are) means that we HAVE to bathe.
And we HAVE to go to bed and we HAVE to wake up and we HAVE to pay bills.
And we still get zits!
And, goddammit, we CAN’T eat cake for breakfast because we are mother fucking RESPONSIBLE.
This needs to end. Adulthood was heralded as this great beacon of hope, this Garden of Eden, the most fun you could ever hope to have.
So screw it: I’m going to have a good time.
