There’s this thing called adulthood and it’s completely awful. Remember when you were a wee girl and your ideas of being a grown-up were wearing those plastic heels you could buy at the dollar store, and carrying around lipstick erasers in the tote bag your mom gave you as a purse? Turns out adulthood isn’t just strutting around, looking awesomely chic. And those heels cost a hell of a lot more than a dollar, honey. Adulthood doesn’t begin when you turn 18 or 21 or really any particular age. It begins when you graduate college (so, do yourself a favor and take your time!!).
I graduated college almost two years ago. Oh gosh, that sentence makes me sick. I feel like just yesterday I was picking out a pair of turquoise heels that would make my black grad gown “pop.” I made the super wise decision of majoring in Journalism in college. Journalism is one of those majors that every time you tell people what you majored in college they say, “Wow that’s amazing, I always wanted to do that. Good for you, the world needs good journalists!” I hate that response. It’s just an underlying way of saying “Wow, I was going to major in that but then I realized that I want money to buy things and don’t want to be sad all the time that no one will pay me to write.” In short. Seriously, my people are struggling. But not only me. Really mostly anyone who thought they could be the exception to their increasingly shrinking field of work.
But back to adulthood. Adulthood is just you writing checks for the rest of your life. That’s all it is. It’s also getting an apartment with a bed bigger than a twin, so that you can impress imaginary handsomes that you win over with your charm and style, drinking fancy cocktails with ingredients you’ve never heard of and, of course, saying adult things (things like “You simply must give me this recipe!”). But it’s mostly writing checks. Checks for rent, bills (why didn’t anyone in college tell me that it costs $50 a month for the city to pick up your trash?!?!?), student loans. The list goes on, we get it. But one thing that I have found to totally help me in those moments where I am wondering where my “fun” money has gone for the month, is that every time I write a check, right before I dot the “I” in my last name, I yell, “I’m an adult!” Seriously, this will help you feel awesome and powerful, I promise. If you don’t have an “I” to dot or a “t” to cross in your name, draw a heart, a smiley face (didn’t you hear Katy Perry brought back the smiley face in signatures? It’s trendy again).
On the bright side though, adulthood isn’t all doom and gloom. Yeah it’s mostly pouring your hard earned money into things that aren’t this season’s Marc Jacobs satchel, and searching for that perfect job with your office/cubicle facing a window (!!), but it also means no curfews, having brunch with your friends and getting your nails did in all sorts of fresh colors! Then again, my mother still calls me every morning and hassles me about the hour I got home.
Feature image via flickr.