Today, I was in a meeting at work when the conversation took a turn and all of a sudden we were discussing 20-somethings. This is not the first time this has happened in a meeting, and, come to think of it, I will often hear references to 20-something year olds while going about my daily business. We are notorious, it would seem, for being big drinkers and big slackers. And we are sometimes painted as semi-bad people. Today someone said, “When I think about who I was in my twenties, I want to crawl inside my skin.”
As someone who is in her 20s, I could see how something like this might make someone feel uncomfortable, but not me. I took this statement to be an exciting declaration that I could apply to myself one day. It reminds me that now, at this age, decreed on a stone on a hill somewhere, there are indulgences allowed. Like if I want to lay in bed at night and stew and pout in my disappointment for a whole hour, I can do that. Or if I want to make considerable impulse purchases multiple days in a row, I can do that too. I can also spend lots of time soul searching in tea shops with Nathalie while wearing one of my many large, shapeless t-shirts because I am in my 20s and there is still lots to find out about myself.
When I’m older, I will just look back and blame it on being young.