Firstly, when do we actually reached adulthood? 18? 20? 21? Are you considered an adult once you leave school? Or when you finally is eligible to vote and have a say in the country you’ve lived in ever since you were born because you’re then wise? Not an outburst. Seriously no. Sorry. Moving on…
Well, I define myself through the book I read, from which section I took it from.
I always find myself going through the books in Young Adult, so I guess that’s it, that’s me. A proud, barely living, young and not so convincingly, an adult! But I’m still waiting for the final book from The Land of Stories’ series which will surely be released in the Teen Readers section. Guess I’ll be a teen again then. Or maybe this is what people call young at hearts, hope it’s not split personality though.
However, age wise, I’m finally in my twenties. No, not finally, it’s not like I’ve been waiting for it. Well, definitely not teenagers anymore. Twenty-agers. Twenagers? I should stop. I don’t think anything changed much though. I’m still leaving with my parents, wearing same clothes as before. Lol, as if there’s adult-clothes and teen-clothes. I didn’t even grow much, why bother a change of wardrobe. I have this one shirt from when I was 12 which I can still fit in it. Baju PCS.
Speaking of which, I have a story to shareabout my wardrobe. Well, that’s what my blog says anyway. Stories Sharing Space. Only that I’m the only one sharing cause you guys don’t. Hint. Hint. Jk.
Anyway, here’s how it goes. I have three sisters and just as particular mother when it comes to what you wear. I mean, what I wear. You are what you wear. That might be the motto we’re living with. Or maybe this one, first impression matters. I was scolded once for wearing flip flops to the mall, and I never did ever since. If I were ever entrusted in packing my own clothes for holiday, I’ll ended up being scolded for bringing those supposed to be wear inside, not outside of the house.
Hence, I became this Abul who never wear flip flops to the mall, whose wardrobe is full enough that I can go to class wearing different clothes for one, maybe two whole months. Abul whose luggage to a three-days trip, looks like it’s for a month stay. Abul who changes into a few outfit before going out and whose wardrobe was once a whole cast’s costume. It was like seeing my very own collection on a runaway. But I hate it when others look better in my outfit. And,and, and I can’t stand wearing same clothes as others, I’ll run a mile away if we met outside and will never wear it again. Hyperbole. I might sound much like a girl now, well see where the education came from. As if I care anyway.
I myself am wondering, how my wardrobe story has deviated much from my intial topic – adulthood. It’s not that far though, here’s how it correlates, through another story of course.
It was yesterday when I celebrated my 20th, my sister’s 29th and my dad’s 54th birthday. Yes, finally an adult. It’s time act like one! That’s unlikely. It’s time to be treated like one! That’s even more unlikely. When I thought it’s finally the time I got to decide on my own, what’s my future endeavor, with whom and how I’m going to spend the rest of my life, and at least what I’m going to wear. Exactly, I can at least decide that right? But life turned me down on that good day. “Why don’t you wear your shirt instead of this?” was what I got when I met my sister at the mall.
- Thought #1: I thought I’m old enough to choose what to wear on my own.
- Thought #2: If I’m old enough, why am I still being criticized over my choice of outfit?
There and then I realized that being an adult is about choosing Thought #2. Being in adult is not about how much more power you’re in control of others but yourself. How well have I known myself? If I was really old enough and had thought it over, I wouldn’t have made that mistake. I knew who I’m going to be with and how they’ve been on and on about outfits all this years. Now that’s a very small scale.
For a wider perspective, it will have greater effects. It might even affects others. When I made another wrong move in the future, will I still state matter-of-factly that I’m now an adult and can face the consequences on my own, or learn, admit and avoid the same mistake like a real one. It all depends on the choice I make now. #2 it is.
So, that’s how my wardrobe story paved a path for me into adulthood.