by ROSIE WATERLAND
I realised something this afternoon. It was 4:30pm, and I was sitting on my bed in mismatched pyjamas eating cereal out of a Tupperware container because there was no clean bowls left. The mattress had no sheets because after finally washing them (two weeks ago), I was so exhausted I haven’t been able to bring myself to put them back on the bed since.
And as I looked over at my desk, where I have a Hello Kitty Pez dispenser collection in the place books would normally go, I realised: I am a lady-child.
Here is a list to prove it:
1. I’m 26 and not even close to interested in getting married, let alone having babies. That’s grown-up stuff. Ew.
2. I rent a tiny apartment with my BFF/flatmate, where the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills airs way more often than the news.
3. I still use the term ‘BFF’.
4. I don’t have a driver’s licence. As in, not even my Learner’s. Somehow the idea of concentrating on the road whilst also belting out Disney tunes seems like way too much responsibility.
5. I still listen to Disney tunes.
6. I taught my ten-year-old niece how to give cupcakes (not the baked kind).
7. When I heard a story about a friend of a friend who farts on her housemate’s loofah in the shower, I laughed for ten solid minutes.