Remember when you were a kid and you’d say “when I’m a grown up I’m going to….” or “when I’m a grown up I’m so not going to…”
Well, I often remember these and quite often I find myself doing exactly what I thought I wouldn’t!
- embarrassing myself in public. When you’re a teenager, your parents are monsters whose sole existence is to humiliate you in front of your friends and the general population. I now find myself being my own worst enemy when it comes to public mortification. Name it and I do it; fall over in front of large crowds, skirt blows up in the wind exposing my underwear to people on the street, lose my shoe going down stairs (once it even hit another lady travelling on the escalator in front of me), spill my coffee down the front of my white shirt 5 minutes before a client meeting. You get the picture right?!
- putting my foot in it. I thought that when I was grown up I’d have a substantial grasp of the English language that would enable me to proficiently and eloquently convey myself through verbal conversation. Although this is usually the case, there are often times I simply say the wrong thing. I get flustered or nervous and words just come out wrong. I’ve asked someone if they’ve just had a baby (they didn’t), I incoherently babble to corporate executives, I repeat inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times and before I can stop myself I repeat things that were meant to be a secret. I generally don’t think before I speak (but I am seriously getting better at this because of all of the above). Open mouth, insert foot, close mouth.
- not drinking before midday. Right about the time I was binge drinking with my friends, dancing to 2Pac’s California Love and waking up with a hangover every weekend, I remember thinking that I would always do what I wanted even if it included have beer for breakfast. Beer on my cereal for breakfast! Now I’m much too sensible to consider breakfast beers, but I still smile at the 20-somethings at the cafe tables next to me who are all wearing dark glasses, grunting monosyllabic sentences and having a hair of the dog on a Sunday morning.
- having friendship drama. when I was 15 or 16, and in the throes of teen angst, one of the things I used to tell myself to get me through the friend-fight/boyfriend-trouble/parental-disagreements was that someday, when I was older and more mature, I wouldn’t have friendship drama. My future life would be carefully scripted; I had visions of how grande my future life would be living as an adult! Free to do whatever I wanted and free from drama. Sigh. I wish that were the case! These days instead of screaming bitch fights in the quad, it’s weeks/months of avoidance or “I’ve been too busy”. It was total bullshit then and it’s the same now. You make time for people you care about, otherwise you have to admit to yourself that you just don’t care. (don’t expect anyone to be around after that)
- never getting a crappy haircut. I remember it vividly. A small hairdresser’s above the gym in Morisset. My mum took me in to get a “trim”. I walked out with a boy’s cut. Gone were my shoulder length locks. Hello to looking like a 11 y.o. small tanned boy. It took many years to grow that cut out and I had to endure the “duck-tail” phase… These days it happens far less as I’m not afraid to give the hairdresser a detailed account of what I want done and what I don’t want my hair to look like. But that doesn’t stop the odd horror fringe cut every so often that ends up with me in tears and Jay saying “it’s not that bad. it’ll grow out by next week”! But at least now I can just break up with my hairdresser!
- drink out of the milk carton. When I was a kid I did it straight from the fridge when I thought Mum wasn’t watching. I still do it now from my own fridge and this time it’s Jay telling me to get a glass. Mum will still echo the same words when I’m at her place. I’ll probably say it to my kids one day, while still drinking from the carton myself… It’s feral, but who can be bothered pouring a whole glass when you can just have a swig!