It's funny the experiences that make you feel like an adult. They are not the proper milestones—graduating, first apartment, first pet. To invoke the well-worn cliche: It's the little things.
As a child, I was incredulous that I'd ever be able to clip my own toenails. The logistics of being out on my own, having a job, etc. didn't seem to vex me. No, I worried about a superfluity of keratin thwarting my life. The day did come when I did cut my own toenails. I don't know how old I was--probably too old. But the newfound ability gnawed further on the tether to my parents.
Both times that I have tried sushi with raw fish encased, I've received a rush of sense of my adult self. I parted with the child in me who reviled the idea of tasting this foreign food.
Today I felt like a "big girl" (and not just because I'm bloated). I got blood drawn. The last time I had blood work I was eleven; the trauma of the lab tech exclaiming "Yous veins is rolling around! I can't get it in!" while I wailed scared me from having it done. The thought of getting blood taken always made my skin crawl and my hands feel numb.
So with trepidation, I went to the lab today. Actually, DCD took me to the lab, as I feared I might be too dizzy or something. Actually, I had thought she might need to go in with me and hold my hand.
I went in alone. I had good veins, the tech told me. (Perhaps my bicep curls in the car beforehand worked!) I felt the needle's prick and nothing else. Simple. I am such an adult.
There are still experiences to be had that will perhaps reinforce my burgeoning adulthood. Like possibly pushing a child out of my loins. Or, more likely to induce an awareness of adulthood, being able to properly fold a fitted sheet.