Real Talk: Immaturity vs. Age
I need some real talk. I am hoping you can help. I have been taunted and shamed by many for my “immaturity” and constantly told I need to grow up. I have an admiration for My Little Pony, Powerpuff Girls, Legos, coloring books, and toys of all kinds. My pen cup on my desk is filled with novelty pens and co-workers often ask, “Don’t you have a normal pen I can use?”
My workspace is flanked with stuffed animals, action figures, Play-Doh, crayons, and coloring books. I have been known to show up at happy hour with friends (in a hooded tee that happens to have a unicorn hood) while wearing my sparkly glitter tennis shoes. This always results in comments like, “Dress your age.” And, I’ll admit I am guilty of owning many footie pajamas that are characters…my favorite is Rainbow Dash. If I were to “act my age” I am not sure how I would do that. Does this mean no more cartoons and Captain Crunch? I need your real talk advice on what I should do about my immaturity, and how do I become more mature.
Real Talk Advice from Ruby
Thank you for writing, and I appreciate that it was big girl typed and not written in crayon. Before I begin giving you the wisdom-filled real talk answers you requested, I need to clarify that I really can’t advise on how to act your age when you have not stated your age. With this disclaimer said, I will presume you are a 30-year-old millennial whose friends all have some marketing job where there is a Froyo machine in the break room…and who are they to say anything? I mean really Froyo? I suppose it’s adult because it’s yogurt? I promise you that there are sprinkles all over that shit when you take it back to your desk Becky. So, don’t sit there typing on your Mac Airbook, eating your chocolate froyo with rainbow sprinkles, wearing a baggy tee that says, “Who are you kitten?” with a picture of a cat in glasses and tell me or Patty Pan that we need to grow up.
Listen Becky, you need to look in the mirror with your clown make-up and kindergarten attire before you place judgment. I know your type, as long as you are one of the cool girls you can be as ridiculous as you please, wearing pompoms in your hair when it is up in pigtails, speaking to your boyfriend in baby coos, wearing onesie pajamas in public, drinking out of a sippy cup, buying Toy Story leggings, eating Fruit Loops, using a crazy straw….oh Becky I know how you and your cronies operate so don’t be giving me or my new pal Patty any bunkum when you my friend (please note the sarcasm here) are no better than us.
So, back to you Patty Pan, and your conundrum. I myself am a girl of a ripe age and know a lot about the smug raised brows of others as I skip down the street with my Micky Mouse backpack singing the theme song from Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood while eating an Otter Pop. The sad truth about our society is that someone is always judging, it is near impossible it seems for most people to just accept others as they are. My mom the other day said, “I hope you don’t mind if I put ketchup on my eggs, your Grandma would never let me.” Can you guess what my reply was? Are you thinking maybe I said, “Eww ketchup on scrambled eggs with cheese…NASTY.”
Patty Pan you are wrong, my answer was this, “I don’t care if you put relish, Hershey’s syrup and sprinkles on them. I don’t have to eat them. You can put whatever you want on them, you’re eating it.” If someone wants to go out wearing an orange toupee with nothing on but a diaper, yes, I will make a face —and yes I will giggle—in fact I might wonder to myself, “What the fuck?” But hey, if they are comfortable in their own skin enough to prance around dressed like a big baby, then more power to them. I am not the one wearing it so why do I care?
People focusing on the number of years they have been breathing in the mysterious fumes of this planet is ridiculous. Life is way too short to worry about how many years you have been living it. You should be living those years, not counting and obsessing over them like Scrooge McDuck and his coins. I take pride in the fact that when asked my age, I always get the confused look you see on Scooby-Doo, and then I have to proceed with the look of Dextar…. not the serial killer but the boy genius…when he is calculating some great formula.
Patty Pan never forget that you are who you are, and fuck those assholes who tell you Chuck E Cheese’s is a kid’s restaurant. You go out there in your unicorn hoodie with your glitter jellies on your feet and play skeeball until you get enough tickets for that oversized big-eyed cat plushie! Crank up the soundtrack to the Bratz movie and dance like there is no tomorrow. Age is just a dumb number and you don’t have to change because your time on Earth demands it. Change is for improvement not regression. Live life to the fullest with pride!
That’s you Real Talk for now.