Things I thought I would do as a grown-up, when I was seven.
Wear pantyhose.
Okay, I have worn panytyhose in my life, but not with the regularity I assumed I would. I do not even own a pair, currently. If my mother found this out she would be scandalized.
Get brainwashed.
I didn't know if it would be by an underground militia or a cult, but I was pretty sure that at some point in my life, I would be wearing white robes and my new name would be Snowfall. I wasn't looking forward to deprogramming, but I knew that when I did, my brooding deprogrammer would fall in love with me even as he brutalized my warped mind back into reality. It's for your own good, he would whisper over my inert body. Still hasn't happened.
Quit smoking.
I have never smoked, so I have never been able to quit. I have been robbed of that triumphant feeling of removing the nicotine monkey from my back.
Play bridge.
I barely know what bridge is, but the adults I knew, they all played it. As I came of age, I suspected that I would be indoctrinated into the ways of bridge. So far no one's come at me with a pack of cards.
Play tennis.
I hated tennis, I could never play, in school I was always assigned to hit balls against the side of the building because I disrupted everyone else's game—but when I reached some milestone of adulthood, I knew that I would simply begin sporting tennis whites and calling my gal pals up for doubles. I thank God every day that this has not happened.
Attend corporate black-tie events.
This would be for my husband, who would be some sort of corporate stooge. See above re: thanking God. Then again, paid vacations would be nice.
Enjoy cocktails at 5.
You know in Annie Hall, when Woody Allen has dinner with Diane Keaton's family? That's how Scott describes meeting my family, a lot. And it's all because of the cocktails. (Also some other things.) Mother likes her Manhattans. But here I am, almost 40, and if I have a drink at 5 p.m. I'm asleep by 8.
Have a nervous breakdown.
Having read "The Yellow Wallpaper," I figured that at some point in a woman's life she succumbs. And everyone knows I'm the nervous type, prone to hysteria, given to fits. I assumed that at some point I would take to my bed for a period of weeks, perhaps in the country. There would be hushed voices outside my door, the occasional cool compress. And yet! Although I have suffered the melancholia throughout my life, I have not yet felt my mind completely fracture. There's still time, though.










August 13, 2007
Reader Comments (78)
Glad you don't want to have a nervous breakdown either.
Shannon
I did think that 26 was high time to be in full baby-production mode. When 26 rolled around, I was nowhere near ready. Waited until 32, and it was absolutely better timing.
Did anyone else have fantasies about what they'd be doing on Dec 31/Jan 1, 2000? I imagined myself at the Taj Mahal, Times Square, Paris-- anywhere glamorous and exotic. Turns out I was with college buddies, exhausted from a road trip, toasting each other with plastic glasses in someone's parents' basement. Oooh, so sophisticated and memorable.
Ended up spending the evening in my hometown with a friend and her parents--she'd just had her gall bladder removed. Hooray!
I love how fifties it is. Did the fifties create everyone's imaginary adulthood? I had a more beatnik version but mine was heavily fifties as well.
You'd have to be wearing one of those poofy Dior dresses to pull of 75% of these, for sure.
This is also a very Cheeveresque list.
When I was a little older, I wanted to live across the street from the Hatch Shell in Boston where classical music would waft into my sophisticated loft where I would be reading in dim light, sipping wine and deciding which handsome man I would allow to take me out for the weekend. I didn't know it at the time, but I think I imagined I would be a Massachusetts version of Carrie Bradshaw.
Not. Even. Close.
Because, truly, I can see the allure to most of the items on your list to a 7 year old who is looking in at the adult world. Really I can.
But the CULT thing??? hahahahah I'm thinking that must give us all a bunch of insight into your 7 year old psyche or something. That's crazy-awesome. I wish I was edgy enough to have such thoughts when I was 30, um, 20, I mean 7.
I thought I'd be hitting the disco every night of the week.
"The Yellow Wallpaper," has been my how bad is it gauge. Is it "The Yellow Wallpaper," bad or is it just a drop in blood sugar bad?