When I was younger, I thought that being a grown-up meant:
- Being old (i.e. over 18)
- Being married
- Having kids
- Liking olives
As soon as I turned 18, I realised I was not a grown-up. As soon as I got married, I realised I was not a grown-up. I frequently tell my mother that I want to be as wonderful and beautiful as she is when I’m grown up.
Perhaps one day if and when we have kids, I may then consider myself a grown-up. I doubt I’ll ever like olives so by that definition I will be forever young. But there are two things of late that are making me seriously wonder whether I may actually be transitioning into the state of being grown-up and they are two things I would never have considered as part of my definition:
- Considering a holiday in Great Britain
- My tastebuds, every once in a while, actually preferring savoury to sweet
I had a very privileged upbringing with parents who were determined that I should see the world. We travelled a lot and we had incredible holidays that weren’t what my friends considered the norm. When my friends spent two weeks on a beach in Spain, I was travelling across South Africa and America or exploring Dubai and Saudi Arabia. I love to learn, I adore travelling and in my snobbish mind, a holiday always required water to be crossed in some form.
Yet I’m beginning to appreciate that a holiday is about refreshment, not just sunshine and new experiences. A holiday is about making memories but that isn’t dependent on foreign shores. I’m starting to consider a long weekend in Stratford-upon-Avon and even possibly a week in Cornwall. That may be because we’ve already had two weeks in Hawaii this year and I’m off to Berlin with work next week, but the fact that the thought has even crossed my mind to take annual leave, spend time somewhere in Great Britain and actually classify it as a holiday, is to me a sign that I may potentially be almost a grown-up.
The change in my tastebuds is more worrying. Forever a chocoholic, there have been occasions in the past few months where I have actually turned down chocolate and have even favoured a savoury snack (or fruit!) instead of my beloved cocoa treat. I can think of no other explanation for this concerning development than the fact that I am now a grown-up. If anyone can offer me an alternative explanation, I would gratefully hear it.