You would think at the age of 41 (oh my, it still hurts to say that) I would be comfortable with the label grown-up. But it’s just, well, it’s just I don’t feel like a grown-up, or rather it isn’t how I imagined it would be. Continue reading
When I was younger I was fiercely independent, both financially and in spirit; I was as career oriented and ambitious as many of my male peers, if not more so; I didn’t ever harbor childhood fantasies of skipping down the aisle in a big white dress; and the maternal gene clearly got lost on its way to me.
But when I met Mike, I developed this irrational desire to be married. I was 33, still had no maternal feelings, but wanted to create a special, permanent bond with this man. Not because I wanted to be looked after, or provided for (although that is exactly how it has worked Continue reading