Turning 27

by wildfeministappears

So, I turned 27 on Monday.  It wasn’t a big event; I enjoyed myself, but it certainly isn’t a major milestone.  But it did make me think about my life.  I started really considering my age.  Not just “Oh, I’m getting older!” but really where I am, and how I’m changing.

I came to the realization that there is no point in your life when you have it all together.  While I have two feet solidly on the ground, my head out of the clouds, my head managed to end up in a fog, where realism meets still not knowing what life is.

My body has crinkles in it that I now know aren’t going away.  My hips are solidly hippy, curved into that womanly form that’s ready to carry the weight of my struggles.  I have to take better care of my skin, and bouncing back from eating 15 pizza rolls just isn’t going to happen. 

My favorite clothes are getting smaller, and I continue glancing over towards the women’s section in stores, dreading leaving my junior section.  The women’s section is adulthood.  The bright colors are gone, the clothes don’t cling, and there’s certainly no pictures.  It’s like leaving the children’s books section as a preteen, where you discover it’s all words.

I know what I want from life but I don’t have the skills to achieve those goals.  There is this gap of experience that I didn’t know I had, or at least I thought I could fake the experience.  But there is no faking!  There is no pretending at this age!  I’m too old now to be clumsy or nervous.  Somehow, I should know better, and I don’t. 

I don’t mean to say that I won’t enjoy this age.  I enjoy having experience in life, having the ability to skip over misunderstandings that just don’t happen with adults.  I enjoy my relationships, my hobbies, my opinions.  I have strong opinions, and they won’t be shaken like they might have when I was younger.  I love myself and accept myself.  I don’t think I’m at a precipice of anything huge anymore; I’m settled.  But I’m settled into the middle of woman and… well… woman.  

It isn’t a question anymore of who I am; it’s a question of how to compromise how adult I can be while still being me.