I came across an infuriating article today – “27 Things You Must Say Goodbye To At 27“. I love list posts, and by the title, I expected to find a lot regarding poor personal finance, maybe some relationship advice, fashion, etc.
Instead, what I found was a curated list of expectations of what a 27 year old, or any woman in her late 20s, should be. The author said that once she realized “most of her friends are moms”, she decided there were things she should give up on. She encouraged the rest of us “27 year olds” to the same.
It varied in topic, the most frustrating were:
- Stop eating bagels with cream cheese (you’ll get fat!)
- Stop taking vacations (save the money for weddings you’ll have to attend)
- Stop ignoring babies (because all child-less, unwed 27 year olds do that, obviously).
You get the idea.
A better title for this article should have been – “27 Ways to Make Individuals Feel Shitty For Not Having Kids and Getting Married.”
I get that it’s a bit tongue in cheek, but telling someone to “stop going to midnight showings of movies”simply because of their age is idiotic. In fact, the article is idiotic. The idea that someone is trying to age shame other women is idiotic.
I’m sure there’s other rebuttals out there, but I wanted to do one of my own anyway. I don’t give a shit if the author reads it. Friends, family of any age – this is for you.
Dear Opinionated 27 year old,
If most of what a typical 27 year old is “expected” to do is accurate, I’m out. I can’t figure out who I am, and what I want, in just 27 years. Regardless of my age, it seems that the older I get, the more I crave adventure, certainty, and confidence. I refuse to feel guilty for that – I’m single, childless, and I fucking love it. I’m taking my sweet ass time to make sure I get exactly what I want.
In the meantime, I’m having a blast.
If I want to inhale an entire ball of mozzerella cheese, I’m going to do it. Not everyday, but whenever I feel inclined. I’m pretty sure monitoring your bagel intake, isn’t a pre-requisite for a successful, long-term relationship, or any indication of how successful or happy you are.
I don’t have kids, but I love them. I’m going to be an aunt in a few months, and I can’t wait. I can love kids and still choose not to have any.
Sometimes I go to bed at 10. Other nights, 3 or 4 AM. Who cares?
If it’s late, I fully expect to be in bed the entire next day recovering, and I kind of look forward to it. If not, I expect to wake up early, and I look forward to that, too.
Last week, I was kind of bored, so I dyed half of my hair blue and teal. Not everyone digs it, but I don’t care. In my eyes, it’s interesting, and different, and hell – –fun! I hate the idea that I’m not allowed to have fun because I’m getting older.
Everyone is getting older, every single day, and having boring hair isn’t going to change that.
And while we’re on that subject… having boring anything won’t change that. You’re getting older. You might as well do what you want, and pursue who you really want to be. You might as well have high expectations. You might as well stuff your face with Ben and Jerry’s, wear what makes you feel hot, and stay out until 3 A.M. You might as well wait for the great rather than settle for the good.
Life is short. You might as well.
It’s likely I will always love to travel, enjoy solitude, and have doubts about having children. It’s likely that at any age, I’ll still write, doodle, paint, and express myself creatively. At any age, I’ll find joy in the people and places I encounter day by day, and it’ll continue to make me complete.
There’s a chance that I’ll always be how I am now, and I’m fine with that.
I refuse to feel guilty for taking things slow and being uncertain. I won’t feel bad for not having my shit figured out yet. At the end of the day, things happen when they’re supposed to, and having expectations of when they should is waste of my time.
The only thing I have to lose is an expectation – something I didn’t want to be, anyway.
So don’t put me in a numbered box, bitch.
Or anyone else.
I could go the rest of my life without shopping at Ann Taylor.