I’ve been adulting hard lately.
I researched, consulted an expert, and signed my family up for a new and more comprehensive health insurance plan. I budget more for healthcare in a given month than I do for clothing or going out to eat.
I budget for clothing and going out to eat.
I buy the bulk of my clothes at Talbot’s, because the fit and quality are reliable.
In the last six months I’ve met the mayor, worked with a councilman, attended a private campaign event, and written a grant application.
I’m a member of a board. I serve at the pleasure of another one.
I had a serious conversation with my girlfriends the other night about gin preferences based on strength of juniper. Two weeks earlier I took a friend’s phone away because he was attempting to buy a company while we were out drinking.
I am a grownup surrounded by other grownups.
The fact I can make this list reveals that a) my concept of adulthood is probably not very adult and b) I’m a little weirded out by this very 30-something Liberal White Life I’ve found myself in the middle of.
Some days I am impressed by what my life has become, others I’m pissed. Some days I’m angry at the political jockeying I’ve been told is part of Getting Things Done, others I’m humble and determined to learn about diplomacy and shutting up and stepping back and Not Knowing Everything. I’m constantly aware of how small and irrelevant the pond in which I’m growing is, how silly all ponds are really, and yet I persist in trying to master this one.
And so I shaved my head.
OK, that’s dramatic.
I shaved a tiny portion of one side of my head and only after careful consideration.
I’d seen a few online friends do it, and I envied them their freedom to be badass. “I wish I could do that,” I said. “So do it,” they replied, as if it was that simple.
“But I am too much of an adult,” I explained. “And my face is too round. And I couldn’t pull it off.”
“It’s your hair,” they said – and both your and hair stuck with me.
Because, yes, it is mine. The hair, the choices, the life. It’s so easy – even after making unusual leaps away from the status quo – to slip back into the comforting current of normal. I’ve been bobbing along bitterly pretending I didn’t know how to swim.
And it’s hair - just hair. It’s not life or death or permanent or any kind of important. And if I had reached a point in my life where something so insignificant could morph into the realm of impossible, then I had stopped being any kind of brave and lost all perspective.
I was still scared it would look stupid. I was scared the people I work with would judge me or be mad at me. And that was the deciding factor that led to making the appointment and letting the clippers fly. Because I want to always be a person who does the thing that scares her.
I love it.