Granted, I am only 23.. A mere newbie to the art of being a grown up. Even so, I am no longer relishing studentdom or living off ma & pa. I'm a proper, real life adult. ICK. Indeed, there are lots of plus sides to being a fully fledged grown up person.. But there are also the not so great parts. Here are the 'adult thaaangs' I'm not quite yet okay with..
Ringing up for stuff.
I’ve got to do all this stuff by myself? The days when my mum would sort out all phone call dramz were the good ones. Ringing up the doctors to deal with power crazed receptionists? Rather not.
How quick everything goes.
It’s May next week. I rest my case.
Lacking money when you thought you’d have money.
I generally thought earning money meant having money. LOL. How foolish.. Girl gotta pay bills when she’d rather spend it on shoes and lipstick.
House stuff. Any house stuff. Don’t get it.
I feel like I should know about mortgages and all that shenanigans when I have no bloody idea. Thankfully, I can just about afford a brick when it comes to buying a house. For now, I can continue singing ‘lalalala’ and pretending I haven’t got to eventually do all that thaaang.
Working.
You mean.. this is actually what I do for the rest of my life? Like every day, for 40 plus years? No school holidays or anything? I’m not signing myself up for the next episode of Benefits Britain.. I do love working.. but that whole moment of ‘right, this is life now’ is a bit of culture shock.
Accepting the fact that you can no longer use the last of the teenage hormones as an excuse for being awful.
THIS IS SO NOT FAIR. Kevin and Perry style. Oh how I took for granted the excuse of being a youth and totes emosh.
Not only getting spots but also getting wrinkles. Brilliant.
Apparently it ain’t a case of out with one and in with another.. It’s & an oily t-zone along the way. Fan-freaking-tastic.
The fact your parents have a way better social life than you do.
That moment I'm picking your ‘rents up from town at gone 11pm after I've had an evening sat watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians reruns and eating bread. UGH.
The amount of money you spend on food.
For me, the older I get, the more money I spend on food. Who knew £30 on posh nosh from M&S felt so good?
Considering if you’re going to still be awake for that 9pm TV show you want to watch.
Falling asleep at 8.30pm is actually a thing.
Having no one around to tell you to not eat pizza 3 days in a row.
Remember when sweets were the odd treat & going to McDonalds was an incentive for not being a horror child? The realisation at a certain age when you can eat whatever the hell is a big novelty, and probably why I end up averaging three packets of crisps a day.
Not yet becoming as sassy as Beyoncé.
Yeah, 23 year old me loves me a lot more than the 17 year old version did, but I did imagine by my 20s I’d have upped my sassy queen levels more. Less Bridget Jones moments if possible, and more of the Queen Bey vibes.
Accepting that it’s unlikely you’ll ever be an astronaut or a professional surfboarder or a hip hop star.
It’s not like I’ve ever fancied having a bash at any of those things, but it’s kind of safe to say I’m beyond the point of deciding I’m up for it anyway. I had this feeling after leaving uni - while nothing was/is set out for certain, I am on a route that isn’t likely to include walking on the moon or being Kanye’s BFF.
Wondering why people in clubs look like they’re freshly hatched from the womb.
Who are these infants? Where did they come from? In my mind anyone born post mid 90s should be reading Jacqueline Wilson books not drinking quad vods on an all nighter.
Having to know what you’re supposed to be doing with your life.
I’m sorry? Just no.
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