The art of adulthood

It is astounding how time flies, I mean just yesterday I was a baby, learning to walk, desperate to talk and eager to grow!

I clearly remember my then, 5-year old self sneaking into my mum\’s room to \”pimp\” my face in the most ridiculous way (using lipstick as blush and eyeliner to draw my brows) and then wear her bra on my still flat chest; completing the look with her size 6 heels, on my still growing size 2 feet (her pink stiletto were my favorite).

This memory is always accompanied with a broad smile and a tear, because, now I am barely interested in applying anything to my face. Heels? Oh no, I can barely walk on flats, as age has dealt me the cards of a bent waist and swollen ankles.

The theft of age; it comes gradually, only hitting you hard with landmarks such as graduations, your first paycheck, your wedding night, the birth of your first child and for some women, the loss of your 74-year-old husband. $\"\"$

Still lingering in my memory are my dreams and to-do lists, the ones I never got around to; why? Well at the time society wasn\’t as open minded as it is now; so I mourn those dreams shoved behind doors out of \”respect\” (i.e fear of what \”they\” would say about me\”) for my cultural standing.

What I didn\’t realize on time is the fact that everything was once upon a time not \”socially acceptable\”.

“Don\’t you find it odd,\” she continued, \”that when you\’re a kid, everyone, all the world, encourages you to follow your dreams. But when you\’re older, somehow they act offended if you even try.”
― Ethan Hawke, The Hottest State

It is okay to revise and review the best way to execute your actions and dream, hence the invention of diplomacy, but do not fall prey to cowardice.