Becoming a Grown Up

Some days being an adult is so overrated, but most days I enjoy being a “grown-up”.  I am lucky enough to wander through my days doing whatever it is my heart desires.  I could be guilty of living out the pleasure principle; but can I help it if I thoroughly find pleasure in the things I do?  Besides, as with everything else, there are limitations.  My hubby returns from work between 4:15 and 4:30 everyday and expects his dinner to be ready.  Bed time in our home is always between 8:30 and 9:00.  And there’s also those pesky kids I take care of and teach; but other than that I enjoy my freedom.

Yesterday, my girl and I drove an hour away for a specific errand:  I was being fitted for prostheses.  By the time she finished her spelling assignment and her arithmetic, we had enough time to hop in the truck, start the drive and get good and hungry.

I decided to stop at the mall’s food court and have lunch before I hurt somebody.  After lunch we shopped for clothes and shoes; then returned to the truck to continue on to my errand.  As soon as I got into the driver’s seat I started thinking, “I don’t want to go be fitted.  I just want to finish up the rest of my errands and go home.”  And then I settled on, “Well…maybe I won’t be able to find this place…I’ll look for it and not find it and then continue on with my day.”

It’s not that I don’t want prosthetic breasts; it’s not that at all.  I think it goes back to the pleasure principle.  It wasn’t something that I found pleasurable.  Also, I think I’m lazy when it comes to maintenance.  I had my bilateral mastectomy back in September of last year.  The healing process took quite a few months, and add another few months waiting for someone from the local shop in my little town to call me back (which never happened) and it brings us to eight months.  Eight months of living the free life:  no brassieres, no hassles; but also no breasts. My clothes definitely fit differently, and the divots where my breasts used to be are very visible beneath a t-shirt.

After the fitting, I felt fine.  It was almost like being on a high.  I was happy to have accomplished my errand, and I was happy I behaved very much like a grown up.  I can check this off my list…finally!

I know I’m an adult, but I don’t necessarily think of myself as one.  When I’m with my kids I just think we’re all the same age, but I get to be the boss.  I have trouble reconciling my age with my mental perspective of my self.  Is this what mid-life crises are about?  Anyway, I think it’s finally happening:  I am finally growing up.


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