I'm almost 32 and I realized that my quarter-life crisis has been at a slow and steady pace since I was around 28.
All this bitching, all this griping...it all makes sense now! Before I was merely an annoying chick who was never satisfied and felt the need to let the whole world know her complaints. BUT NOW...it has been solved! I've just been going through a crisis, but at such a slow pace that I didn't realize it.
At least men in their 40s and 50s wake up and buy cars. Sadly, I can't do that. And I actually like my car. In fact, I love Eleanor. She has been good to me. Eleanor, baby, I'm sorry I haven't washed you in like 2 months. I know baby. A car is a reflection of its owner, and right now I look pretty hygienically unsound.
So what's a girl to do when she realizes that she's gone though the stupid fun years of her life and doesn't know what to do as a grownup?
Oh sure...there's all the grownup things. Job. 401k. House. No...house PAYMENTS. Sending out way too many holiday cards in December on behalf of "us". Laundry. Proper nutrition.
But there's a shift in mentality that needs to take place. I feel like each chapter of our lives is represented by an entrance. Well, I haven't crossed the doorway. I've just been chillin' on the front porch so that I can keep my eye on the door from my Oh Look Sweet Freedom I'm On My Own Now! This Is Going To Rock Years. It's like turning my head and charging through that doorway indicates that I should bet that person. The kind that in every year earlier in your life, you never wanted to become. The one who talks mortgages (already do), bills(already do), weather (already do), and politics (already do although I aim to be as ignorant as possible with the exception of socialized healthcare which i feel damn passionately about...wtf in the States we pay more per capita for healthcare yet the #1 reason for bankruptcy is healthcare costs. Ahhh my tangent...I'll bring it back in now).
Listen, I'm not gonna lie. I'm not cool. I've never been cool. I just want ONE opportunity to be cool and then I promise I'll turn my head from peering into that party house that represents youth. So what constitutes "cool"? We don't want to be the 32yo equivalent of the douchebag old guy who gets a new corvette, or even worse, a new miata.
Options include:
Tattoos
Everyone's got one now. So I think at this rate if I got one I become a crazy conformist. And it's just so...permanent. I have NOTHING on me that's permanent other than scars, and I desperately slather Mederma and prescription scar cream in hopes of one day miraculously waking up to flawless skin. Why am I paying to have that occur? Although...the cheesy "made in Canada" logo that people in Canada get would seem pretty nifty and different when you live in the States. But still...getting a tattoo would make me feel like it's the body part equivalent of getting a miata (not for others...but for me, since it's so out of character). The whole point of why it was cool once upon a time was the pain factor combined with the stigma of doing something so ooohhhh "wrong" to your body in a permanent fashion. I'm sure there's plenty of nerds to tattoo "Hello World" or "void foo(int a)" so really...I'll pass.
Splurge on an expensive grownup purse
There comes a time in every woman's life when she splurges and gets that one designer bag she's dying for. Guys, don't even TRY to understand this. And lord knows, I've provided many a slobbery goo over the pretty things I've seen here in Orange County. But my paranoia exceeds my desire, and my fear of being robbed prevents me from ever starting a "nice expensive prettttyyy purse fund so that I can stop justifying why I have 25 non-designer bags that although they're cute and functional, it's just not the same". I don't think I would get robbed for the purse. I think I would just get robbed, period. Regardless if my purse were Hermes or Target, I can still get robbed. The last thing I want is to be negotiating with a robber "For real, take the CONTENTS of the purse. Take my wallet, take my cell. Just leave me my purse and my lipgloss. Please."
Get a whole new hair-do
Been there, done that. Spent forever feeling like Eva Longoria's ugly sister. While my hair still looks better, all it does is make me feel that I should have been visiting Henry the Stylist years ago.
Pursue a Master's degree
This falls under the "I don't know what I want to be when I grow up". Well the other parts of life that involve bills make this not so much an option (well, everything's an option. But the risks/consequences/stress aren't worth the potential outcome of it providing me with what I'd want). Plus I once looked up the whole thing of having my Canadian degree scoped out to see if it fits whatever requirements, and that just seemed like one big pain in the ass. It was 4 years of hell at horrific Ottawa U, I'd like to not revisit that past in order to attempt a future degree.
Plastic Surgery
Well I haven't had plastic surgery, but I did get a "cosmetic procedure" a few times. And it was AWESOME. Like...for real...I can't speak enough on the merits of injecting food poisoning into your face. God bless the team that used this for medical purposes only to discover their patients were lookin' mighty fine. Sadly it's a little hard to justify the cost vs. the frequency it needs to be done. Sigh. I've got syringes from my cat's insulin and plenty of meat I can let sit on the counter...can't I just scoop up some of the moldy goo, inject it into my forehead, and see what fun ensues?
So what's a girl with a delayed quarter-life crisis to do?
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Ha you thought I had an answer? Hardly. Probably just a good ol' fashioned bitch slapping session with someone finally PUSHING me through that entryway into grownup world.
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