Hmmm... when did I realize I I was an adult? I am still waiting for that day, but I remember the day when I was told I was not a little kid anymore:

It was toward the end of the sixth grade. I was waiting outside school for my grandma to pick me up, and Mrs. L, my math teacher (whom I did not like, incidentally) was the poor sap who had to stand outside with the kids who were waiting on rides. Mrs. L asked, "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

I shrugged.

"You're getting older now, and... [insert awkward pause] and perhaps you should talk to your grandma about wearing a bra...?"

Her voice lilted like she was asking me a question, and she trailed off, most likely instantly regretting this conversation.

I looked down at my completely flat chest.

I shrugged.

My grandma pulled up, and I jumped in to the back seat.

"What was Mrs. L talking to you about?"

"Bras."

"Bras?"

"She says I have to talk to you about bras...?" My voice lilted just like Mrs. L's had, and I trailed off, instantly regretting this conversation.

"But you don't need a--"

"--I know."

But instead of going home, we went to JC Penny's where my grandma bought me a baid-aid colored bra. It was itchy and uncomfortable and it made my t-shirt look lumpy. I looked down at my chest.

"It's too big." [note: I was referring to the bra, not my chest].

"I know. [insert awkward pause] But you're getting older now. It's time to wear a bra. You're not a little kid anymore."