I keep expecting to wake up one day and be an adult with a careful, smooth hair-do and neatly pressed, well fitting clothes. I half expected this to happen on the morning of my 25th birthday. I still have hope that this might happen on my 30th in a couple of months. Instead I am sure I will find I am still me. And I am ok with this. I like who I am. It hasn’t always been the case, but it is now.
And so we begin.