A Two Parter, Part II

Now that I have thoroughly depressed you, I’m gonna try and make you smile through the tears.  Let me just cue the laugh track…

I’m 28.  Two short years away from 30.  Chronologically speaking, I am neither young nor old.  Practically speaking, in terms of the age I present as, I am about 5.  Hear me out before you decide I’m crazy.

I love candy to an unreasonable degree and seem to be able to withstand extreme consumption.  I think tutus and pixie wings (I am *thisclose* to making a pair for myself) are viable clothing options.  I occasionally pretend to be a ballerina and I spend a lot of time day dreaming and then bringing those dreams into reality, which is awkward.  I smile randomly as I walk down the street, amused by a joke I just told myself.  My inner life is as rich if not richer than my outer life.  I love laughter, absurdity, and taking over the world.  And the fact is, I still have many of the habits I had when I was still in single digits.  Layering is my go to m.o. for clothing, though I do wear underwear underneath all those layers (apparently I did not as a child.)  I still hate pink.  About the only thing that has changed is that I got a little taller (not much) and have a deep understanding of the intricacies of post modern literary criticism.

Some of my favorite moments with N involve his realizing that I am 5.  A while ago, I was throwing a faux temper tantrum just for kicks and stamped my foot.  N’s response?  Bemused laughter and something to the effect of, you really are 5 aren’t you?

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how old I am chronologically and how old I act and how people perceive me.  We’ve discussed how I always get mistaken for younger than I am.  Part of it may be how I dress.  I generally run around in short dresses and leggings.  Coupled with my shortness, lack of makeup, and what I can only assume is a general air of youth, it’s not altogether surprising that I get read as younger.  And, for a bit I have railed against this perception.

I’ve talked about Peter Pan-ing it.  Part of me embraces this aspect of myself but lately another part, the part that wants to be seen as mature, has been very vocal.  I get worried that job interviews are going to be hard because the first impression I give off is one of youth and, I would assume, the attendant immaturity.

For now, I am content with the realization that I seem to have mastered being 5 and 28 simultaneously.  Occasionally I get whiplash from swinging between the ages but it’s nothing some yoga can’t fix.

And because I am feeling goofy, here’s a poll!