Adulting Is...

You're familiar with the "Love Is" cartoon, no? It's pretty cute. Strange in that it's two creepy looking cartoons, but cute in that it returns us to innocence on the subject of love when we lose sight of the small moments meaning more than the big moments. 

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Anyway, this post isn't cute like that. And it's def. NOT about love. I just wanted to remind you all of the cartoon since I'm going to play off of it with an "Adulting Is..." series. Because adulting is hard and not one, present-day adult hasn't stopped dead in their tracks while thinking, "Why the hell did I ask for this? Why was I trying so hard to grow up faster? For THIS? For this 9-5, bill-soaked, responsibility-ridden life? Why, GOD? WHY?"

Adulting is...

using your lunch break do go grocery shopping because you don't want to do it at night after work because, after work, all you want to do is get home, change into your pajamas, eat dinner, and go to bed as early as societally acceptable (9pm is the golden hour, I think).

ADULTING IS...

getting so excited over your grocery shop, you text your best friends all about it without realizing how incredibly sad and lame you sound. You're on a high that only the perfectly executed grocery shop can create. This is screenshotted evidence of what one of my best friend's had to endure yesterday after one of my better shops of all time:

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It's really no wonder I have so few close friends. They're saints for putting up with this.

ADULTING IS...

giving into the whole standing desk fad because you realize it actually probably is a lot better for you and also, you sit on your ass every single day in your cube for (roughly) 8 hours and good God that's depressing and fat.

ADULTING IS...

receiving dick pics and realizing it may be the closest you get to seeing a live dick in a while, so you might as well embrace it. 

ADULTING IS...

not caring how hot the new guy at the office is — you've learned your lesson and will not be fucking with that because no amount of sneaking around and keeping it on the low-low is worth it when it ends (and it will end, don't be silly) and you are subjected to seeing that person every. single. day. for the rest of your life at this job of yours. Been there, done that when I was 24 and didn't know any better, and it took me six fucking months of weeping quietly and sobbing aggressively at my desk to get over it. And I still wasn't even over it. I just said I was. They knew. THEY ALL KNEW.

ADULTING IS...

deeming Friday night as "hard" in the way of doing anything social, and using it to stay in, maybe order in food, maybe cook if you're feeling extra domestic/old, and Netflix&Chill the F out of yourself and maybe one friend who loves you and gets you and wants in on your newly founded Friday Night Chill sessions. Fridays are for decompressing in the comfort of your own home, surrounded by your own farts, delicious food, and something delightful on TV like "Say Yes To The Dress" or all of Netflix.

ADULTING IS...

learning the art of packing your own lunch. It's growing a passion you've never known for tupperware and Ziploc baggies. It's getting a chub over the lunch you've built, knowing you'll not only be satisfied, but you'll be saving money. It's feeling a sense of invincibility as you stroll into the office toting your lululemon bag or what have you (the only reason I own 6 of them is because of headbands and underwear; the only items I can afford there) with a baller-level meal that would make your mama proud.

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ADULTING IS...

making food in bulk to dine on throughout your work week. Realizing, hey — I can plan ahead. I don't necessarily need to figure this shit out last minute or end up eating out every weeknight because I wasn't prepared. I don't need to make three separate trips to the grocery store (although why wouldn't I want to? Grocery stores and drug stores are adult playgrounds as far as I'm concerned). I can think it out, write it out, and not buy so much unneeded produce just to feel like I'm fit and thin only to end up watching my bag of baby bell peppers and small collection of lettuce rot and die throughout the week.

ADULTING IS...

being able to make the executive decision to do what you want sexually on a first date, while making peace with yourself that you very well may never hear from this guy again and you are 100% okay with that. That you will not take your life over it or slip into a minor depression and slut-shame yourself because sometimes a girl just NEEDS HERS, OK? And as long as you're okay with it, GET DOWN, GIRL. GO AHEAD GET DOWN.

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ADULTING IS...

reading a book in bed at night to wind down in total silence and loving every second of it. No TV. No music. No nothing. Just you, your book, maybe your adorable Cavapoo, and silence. Maybe a white noise machine, too.

ADULTING IS...

splitting the check down the middle with your girlfriend, even though she had one more drink than you or you didn't touch the app she ordered (what are you, tho? A monster?). Only children sit there WITH A PEN (kill me now) and divvy up the check accordingly. We're all adults here. We all make decent money. Just throw your card down and have your friend buy you a drink at the next bar to make up for it, asshole.

ADULTING IS...

not having one social plan for an entire week, and loving every damn second of it. That's called JOMO my friends, and once you've reached that level of truly looking forward to going straight home after work to do nothing but be alone for an entire work week, you've made it. You can rely on you now. You have successfully conquered what Carrie Bradshaw tried to preach to us about loving yourself first or whatever that diatribe was about. Good job. You've done it. You're adulting and you're good at it. Cheers!

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xox,

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