The Moment I Realised I’m a Grown-Up

I¬†struggle with the idea that I turned 35 yesterday.¬† After 35, doesn’t your skin start to wrinkle & pucker like you’ve¬†been¬†hoovering¬†smack with¬†Keith Richards for 20 years?¬†¬† Doesn’t your bladder¬†shrink to the size of¬†Kiera Knightley’s left arse-cheek (very small indeed!)?¬†¬† Don’t your boobs start resembling this?

Ok sure… that’s actually a man.¬† Whatever.

Even as a 10 year old, I felt like a grown-up. Always responsible, always sensible. Surrounded by adults, I felt like one.¬†¬† The weird thing is, I¬†AM a grown-up now.¬† I’m married.¬† I own a house.¬† I pay my bills.¬† I have a responsible job.¬† I remember to buy birthday presents¬†for my in-laws.¬† But I don’t¬†FEEL like a grown-up.

For one, I love to get hammered. Not in a ‘throwing-up-through-my-fingers-and-then-continuing-to-pash-that-hottie’ kinda way, more in a ‘gosh-this-bottle-of-verdelho-is-lovely-and-hey-I-can’t-feel-my-fingertips’ kinda way.¬†¬†

Number 2, I say fuck… a¬†lot.

Number 3, I still want Christina Ricci’s haircut NOT Jennifer Aniston’s.

Number 4, Cold War Kids & Santogold are the shit.  Paul Potts and Andre Rieue (whatever) are not.

Number 5, if you offer me a little something-something I’m saying yes please.

So what?¬† Am I regressing because I’m scared of getting old?¬† Hell no!¬† My mum’s 51 and she’s a child too.¬† We¬†ARE grown-ups.¬† I think we are just gals about town with a sense of fun and adventure.¬†

So when did I realise it?¬† I’m sure it was something painfully mundane, like the first time I¬†suggested¬†dinner with my parents on a Saturday night, somewhere expensive, just because… oh and I didn’t expect them to pay.

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