How To: #BecomingAnAdultTips – 6

The things you never knew you needed to know…

Becoming an adult is a troublesome process. Few people make it out of adulthood alive. Whether you’re scraping twenty-one or hitting forty, there is always another mistake you didn’t know you needed to make as part of your overall growing process. Basically, this is a compilation of things you didn’t know you needed to know. I’ve done the research, the groundwork and a lot of really stupid sh** so that you don’t have to. From paddling pools to pirate costumes, achieving adult status is not always what it seems…

Tip #6 – Prioritise Your Wardrobe

For some reason, one of the main ways I know I’m an adult now, is that I have previously unseen levels of pride in my attire.

Alright, admittedly, I’m not saving up for Calvin Klein levels of swank, but, and this is a big deal for anyone who knows me, I have this sense that saggy grey pants with no elastic and socks that are more holes than fabric just don’t cut it any more.

Certainly, the greater part of my undergarment collection does still hail from the BHS bargain bins, but now that I have some disposable income and I’ve discovered the dignity that I momentarily misplaced somewhere in my university halls, I tend to throw away the ones that start looking a bit tatty and buy new ones.

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This might not sound like a big deal, but hey, it’s the little things that show us how we change over time, or something equally twee.

Finally I come to my point, however. When I was “rationalising” my wardrobe recently, throwing away things that didn’t adhere to my newly inflated sense of importance, I realised the true balance of a grown-up’s clothing ownership. To be able to class yourself as “adjusted”, you’ve got to reach a certain point somewhere in the middle of the maturity spectrum. Not too far down the “I am an accountant therefore everything must be grey” end, certainly a long way from the “everything I own is covered in beer stains and rave paint” point….and probably hovering somewhere around the “I-R-O-N? What is this “iron” you speak of? Marvellous, I must learn it’s ways”.

I have decided, therefore, that throwing out socks that have a hole in the heel because “I’m an adult now and must be taken seriously”, while keeping the luminous pink tutu and the sombrero I stole from a Mexican restaurant because “you never know when there’ll be an impromptu Mexican-ballerina-themed pub crawl” go hand in hand, as key aspects of my being a well-rounded human being.

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