At what point in life do you begin to mentally feel your actual age? Better question: Does this ever actually happen? I’ve been reading a good deal of writings by other bloggers today, as per my personal blogger rule #4 see my “Hello World” post. While reading them I find myself relating to their thought process and humility in a huge way, despite their age or background. Most recently, I came upon a blog written by a self admittedly middle-aged woman, Michelle, with years of blogging experience and it truly inspired me. I connected with her writing style, her humor and method of story telling. It was refreshing. It really got me thinking. How can a person who was brought up in a completely different era and molded by such different experiences be so relatable to me? At the moment I am in my early 30’s. I’m a mom, a college grad, and working professional, yet I still find myself giggling out loud at the most immature, childish things. God forbid I see a fruit or veggie that coincidentally happened to have a growth or mutation in the shape of the male genitalia…I’ll be the first one to burst out laughing or make a tongue-in-cheek comment. Every other part of my body seems to have gotten the memo in regards to my actual age, every part that is, except for my brain. I’ve got body aches of kinds, my skin isn’t as buoyant as it once was and my “girls” definitely aren’t as perky as they once were. Physically, I’m aging. Mentally, not so much. Of course, as I’ve gotten older, I realize when and where it’s appropriate to express certain thoughts or feelings. However, I just always assumed that when I was the age I am now that I would have a completely different outlook. A more mature and grown up sort of outlook. Think about it…when you were 5 or 6 years old, how did you envision yourself at the age you are now? Personally, I fed into the whole “Barbie Scenario”. I envisioned myself married to the man of my dreams, living in a beautiful house with a pristine yard laced with a pure white picket fence and running a successful business of some kind where I can come and go as I please in order to spend quality time with my three-four beautiful children . Yup, I thought I would have it all together and all figured out. Snap back to reality: Yes, I have a beautiful child and ONE is enough for me! Yes, I love my boyfriend, married or not. And our house may not be picture perfect, but it’s ours and it’s home. I also have bills, a boss to report to, and the usual relationship issues. Despite all of this, I still mentally feel like the same goofy, light-hearted, overly energetic girl I was in my early 20’s. So with this all being said, how is it that my immature, free spirited 20’s something mind can possibly find some sort of connection with a personality of someone twice my age? Perhaps, our inner selves stop aging at a certain point. I definitely feel different and think differently than when I was 5 or 6 years old. But, somewhere in my early 20’s my mind seems to have hopped off the maturity train and decided that was its last stop. As if frozen in time, my brain still insists it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to go ahead and get those hot pink highlights or that I still have full rights to go ahead and slip into that skin-tight mini dress and head out to the club for a night of dancing and cocktails with the girls. The problem is, it’s usually the days that follow these spontaneous acts I pay ten folds. Sure, I’d still love to sport a pair of trendy “Sex in the City” stilettos to work everyday. My body, however, prefers my safe, comfy Aerosoles slip-ons option. I suppose my internal battle will eventually come to a close. My 20 something’s mind will eventually have to come to terms with my actual age and waive the white flag in defeat. Until then, it’s just nice to know that it is okay to be young at heart and a little goofy at times.