Juniors’ department revelations

There comes a moment in every young woman’s life when she must stop and ask herself the dreaded question that her entire youth has been building up to: Am I too old to shop in the juniors’ department?

If you have to ask – probably.

This paralyzing revelation, often accompanied by a tearful breakdown at the local shopping mall, is only the beginning. It hits us like an oncoming train, opening up a whole new can of questions and concerns that suddenly start pouring out of our minds like confetti.

Are people embarrassed for me because I still wear pants that say “Hot Stuff” on the butt? Am I also too old to giggle at the word “penal”? Is it time to record a less obscene voicemail message? Has it become more depressing than fulfilling to stand around a shoddy ping-pong table while drunk acquaintances toss balls into cups of stale beer? Might I one day regret these pictures I am loading onto Facebook of me getting blazed in a stolen cop car?

For all these reasons and more, it’s a confusing time for those of us preparing to leave college.

We are torn between our grown-up ambitions and our youthful tendencies. As a certain pop princess once explained: “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman.”

Me too, Brit. Last semester I wrote essay after essay for my grad school applications, trying to prove on paper that I should be taken seriously. Then I printed out the pages and attached them using my neon green staples and hot-orange paperclips. This is the story of my life.

Many of us wake up early to work at jobs that require us to be mature and responsible. But between work and classes, we are completely un-self-conscious about sprawling out on the floor of the nearest campus building for a nap. (I’ve heard rumors that this is not always smiled upon in the real world.)

Of course, not everyone is struggling with this transition to adulthood just yet. Those moving back home will get to revert back to an infantile state – having their meals cooked, getting their laundry done and being tucked in to bed at night.

But for the rest of us, the time has come to ask the tough questions: Can I come back to nap at the Union when I’m no longer a student? What should I do with my pastel-colored office supplies? When I have my own family, will it still be okay to eat oatmeal for dinner while watching The Bachelorette and chatting on AIM?

I do not know the answers to these questions, for I am still trying to find my balance between these two worlds. I’m too old for juniors’ clothes, but too young to know how to navigate the women’s department without ending up with clothes that make me look like a potato sack.

Incidentally, that would make an excellent title for a pop song.