Me + Growing = I Don't Think So
by Krystal Mays
This essay was published in the first online issue of Polis.
It all begins with the famous phrase, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" As children, we think the words "growing up" mean becoming like mom and dad. It means having a job, being able to cook dinner, and knowing how to pay bills. We are too young to understand the real concept behind those two dreadful words. If only someone had told me the truth, I could have prepared for the shock. I hate growing up, and getting older really stinks!
The phases of growing up are like a date gone wrong. They start off real nice and eventually smack you in the face. I remember back in kindergarten when there used to be nap time. Oh how I took it for granted! I'm not even sure if I know what the word "sleep" means now. And if school couldn't get more difficult over the years, someone came along and decided we needed to learn languages other than English. As if my English wasn't bad enough, now I have to learn how to speak in gibberish.
Growing up causes the "unthinkable" to happen. When I was little, I really should have taken advantage of pure skin, no wrinkles, and the phrase "eat your vegetables." Now, I have to use Clearasil, undereye cream, and drink slimfast! What could possibly be good about becoming old, fat, ugly, and bald? I used to have energy, but now I have to drink caffeine to wake myself up. It used to be that when I went to get my hair cut, my stylist would say, "Look how shiny and thick your hair is." Now I hear, "Okay, what should we try today to give your hair some volume?" Not to mention that we women have the privilege of loosing our figures, becoming less attractive, and receiving lumps of cellulite in our backside. That's when we must say, "Goodbye bikinis!"
Growing up brings more responsibilities. It used to be that my mom would come in my room every morning and say, "Time to get up!" Now, I wake up to the annoying sound of my alarm clock going "beep, beep," and my mom in the next room sawing logs. Just when I thought this was bad, it never occurred to me that at the age of twelve I would eventually have to get something called a "job". Weren't mom and dad supposed to take care of me forever? Today, I have to make sure I have money to put gas in my car, make a car payment, pay a cell phone bill, and have at least a dollar left over for the ninety-nine cents menu at Wendys. All of this doesn't include the additional expenses of "stuff I want to buy" like CDs, clothes, and shoes at the mall. Someone also failed to mention that as I got older the prices would rise and an apartment could be as high as six hundred dollars per month. (Thank goodness I still live at home!)
Growing up leaves no time for fun. I remember being eleven years old and going to Fun Quest or the movies every weekend. Sometimes my friends and I would even get bored because we had nothing to do. That isn't the case anymore. My weekends are now spent looking at the walls of my bedroom, along with the stack of books I have to read and memorize by Monday morning. My days of "cruising" on Wards Road at the age of sixteen have also vanished. I'm lucky now just to drive down that road on my way home from college!
Children never really think about the future because it seems so far away. They figure that they will be young forever. I think there are a lot of us who never grow up. Sure we get older in appearance and become forgetful, but inside we are still little kids. Although I can't stop the aging process or drink from the fountain of youth, I will always hate growing up. It's one of the reasons why I've decided to do what I've always said I would. I plan to move to Never Never Land and live with Peter Pan!
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