Stuff and Nonsense: I'm Finally A Real Grown-Up Woman?


I'm Finally A Real Grown-Up Woman?

I'm 40 today which, to me, means I am finally A Real Grown-Up Woman. I have accrued enough years that I've become, in my head, grown-up by default. This probably seems weird and nonsensical to you, because you don't suffer from weird age-related identity issues, but it's a surprising relief to me.

Since leaving college, I frequently felt as if I was floundering around being Not A Real Grown-Up Woman. Like many of my age-mates, I did an undergraduate program and then moved onto grad school before starting a career -- acquiring a spouse, a mortgage, and various retirement accounts along the way. All suitably Real Grown-Up Things, right? But, ring-a-ding-ding, no kids. (And, no, I have never been so far gone in cat-love as to call those four-legged beasties my "children").

Let me be clear. I never wanted a child. But. I felt as if my friends with children (or who were trying for kids) had stepped into The Accepted Template For (Heteronormative) Adulthood and I was some kind sham. (Is this a problem shared by childless married men? Do they look at their male fiends becoming dads and think "I'm not properly an adult?").

But now I'm forty. No-one seriously expects me to have kids now, right? I'm officially in the Geeky Cat Lady subset of Real Grown-Up Woman? So break out the Hobnobs and the merlot. Let's get this unending Real Grown-Up party started.

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