I have a lot of things working against me in the “act like a grown up” column. I have a non-traditional job that allows me to rock my pajamas at work, I look like I’m twelve so no one questions it when all I buy at the grocery store is popcorn and pizza bites (but they do a double or triple take when the only other purchase along with my child food is wine). I live alone, so there’s no one to call me out for taking hour long baths after downing all of that wine and dunking my head to pretend like I’m the Little-Fucking-Mermaid when my hair fans out around me in the tub.
Basically I’m a pre-teen with a debit card and a weekly income who just happens to use eye cream. It’s a weird life, but it’s where I’m at right now.
It became clear to me on Sunday (after two days of doing nothing but watching TV and eating pretzels and ice cream) that I’m really behind in this adult thing. While my friends are out there talking about babies, building houses, and ultimately figuring how to make something of themselves before they die, I’m nursing hangovers with Pedialyte. But it’s not just the lack of nutritional knowledge that is stopping me from becoming a fully-fledged adult being. While sitting in sweatpants that I stole from one of my guy friends, hair tied, no makeup (but not in a hot way like Drake describes), I compiled a list of things that you’d think I’d understand by now.
The only things I’m invested in at the moment are Jake Ballard, white cheddar popcorn, and finding a Star Wars themed collar for my dog. The general assumption I have is that when you have extra money, you put it towards something that will ultimately make you more money… yes? But I just can’t bring myself towards figuring out the stock market when I could instead blow $82 at happy hour and another $30 at wine tasting. And the whole “investing in property” thing? Yeah. Right. My one apartment is expensive enough thank you very much. Plus, I’d be the most pushover landlord ever. Those renters would get away with anything because I’d want to play beer pong with them and have them tell me how cool I am.
2. Meal Prep
Once every three months or so, I get on a crazy health kick where I make an ass-ton of quinoa, roast every vegetable you can think of, and methodically separate them into tupperware containers before patting myself on the back for being so good to my body. But then the leftovers get pushed to the back of the fridge in favor of to-go burritos, and the produce I’ve purchased gets forgotten about. Then, two weeks later, I’m just throwing out tupperware and whining about peeling rotten vegetables out of the crisper. I know how to cook, I don’t really hate it, but I’d just rather rock those Eat24 coupons and live off of crackers than have to wash dishes every night.
3. Business Casual
Wait…so I’m not supposed to wear polka dot printed jeans and my Mean Girls tank top to a brunch where I talk about my business ideas? I once tried to go to JCrew in order to buy pencil skirts and blazers, and I felt like I was trying on my lawyer aunt’s clothes. I didn’t belong. The sales girl knew it and gave me her pity eyes since I didn’t know how to style the button down in the chic way she had obviously mastered. So help me if I ever end up in a job where I have to abandon my hoodies and my crop tops. It’s not going to go well.
4. Making The Bed
I’ve read that people who make the bed are more productive in their day, but I just don’t get it. I mean…I’m not going to leave the sheets sticking everywhere and the pillows all over the floor, but I’m also not going to make my bed look like a Better Home and Gardens spread when I’m just going to ruin it during a Netflix binge. Guess my future career of a minimalist design blogger is ending before it even begins. And don’t get me started about how to fold a fitted sheet. That shit is never going to happen.
5. Health Insurance
I have this summer to fuck everything up without having to either opt out or give away a pretty penny to protect my bones, eyes, and overall health. While non-traditional careers let you lounge around in your jams until 4 p.m., they do not come with a bunch of instructions about how to like, do your taxes or take care of yourself with mom and dad’s Blue Cross Blue Shield. I’m personally just making a great first aid kit and hoping that by taking a multi-vitamin and eating a bunch of kale I’ll become super healthy and will, in the end, cheat the system. Thanks, Obama. .
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