Today is my half birthday. In just 6 months, I’ll be 30. And I have to admit, that’s an age I’ve looked forward to for a long time. When I was younger, women in their thirties seemed so glamorous and grown up, and I’ve always had high hopes for myself upon reaching that age. Now that I’m almost 30, women in their thirties still seem so glamorous and grown up, and I’m starting to wonder how I’ll fit in.
See, the problem is that I’m still a kid. I’m not sure how I managed to fool everyone and trick them into thinking I’m an adult, but I’m not. I really don’t understand who authorized me to get married, buy cars and houses, and worst of all, have a kid. That’s grown up business, not meant for kids like me!
I find myself paying bills and taxes, worrying about how much longer my house’s roof will last, wondering where to send Laura for school next year. My husband and I discuss nuclear bombs, our future, the state of our bank accounts. I hear myself saying distinctly mom-like things to Laura. My back hurts sometimes. I buy sympathy cards for the losses my friends and family members have suffered, I read about war, I worry about my daughter. I have my own business. I’ve already had talks with Laura about body parts, jealousy, and death.
I suppose perhaps I’m an adult after all. But when did that happen? And why do I still feel like an impostor?