I keep referring to members of the opposite sex as “boys.” It sounds outdated. I don’t necessarily want to date a boy. Boys are cute and dimpled and jackasses that want to screw everything in sight. I’d like a man, but that always puts to mind somebody who’s 30 years older than me, rugged and weather-beaten and wearing flannel.

I was at the doctor’s office the other day, when I overheard the doctor refer to me as “that woman.” I was shocked. A woman? It sounds so… adult. I don’t feel adultish. When did this ascent (descent?) into womanhood happen? I feel like I should have been better prepared. I should have at least crossed out the event with a big red X on my calendar, thrown a party, cleaned the house. Am I supposed to be interested in furniture upholstery now? Should I buy some new drapes?

If I had to pick a defining adult transition, it’d be when I bought my Samsung INSTINCT last month. Finally, the luxury to buy a fancy piece of technology for no reason whatsoever other than the pure bliss of self indulgence.

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