I have disappointed many younger versions of myself by not yet being an adult. Young Kathleen envisioned herself at this age to be a tall, well dressed, elegant, sophisticated intellectual. With her own pony. And a pool.
Teenage Kathleen pictured herself to be married, or at least engaged. Her fiance must be a tall, dark and handsome intellectual whose six-figure salary (minimum) would allow her to forgo the shackles of employment and volunteer with Latin American orphans. (Also: daily blowouts).
The engagement itself was an elaborate affair, outdoing every engagement on the former version of TLC's "A Wedding Story". An exact scenario was never defined, but all possibilities were very public, romantic affairs that left all witnesses teary-eyed and jealous. ESPECIALLY JEALOUS.
College Kathleen realized that she may never be an adult. Living four hours from home and struggling to remember to buy garbage bags, her "adult age" was a target somewhere in the six months after graduation. In this time, she would acquire a high-powered position in a large company, wear glamorous clothing, and have an apartment with shiny, lacquered floors.
Present-day Kathleen disappoints each of her former selves in some way. Despite efforts, I have barely surpassed five-feet, and my wardrobe has far too many pieces from Gap Kids to be considered at all sophisticated. Though I am in a long-term relationship, I am neither married, nor engaged. Weekly blowouts and selfless orphan-saving are still desired, but completely out of the question. My floors are generally covered in pet hair.
Yes, modern-day Kathleen has her own version of when adulthood will come. When I can go through an entire day without feeling like I am an impostor in meetings, the grocery store, buying INSURANCE forgodssake, then I will be an adult.