Am I Acting My Age?

what does that even mean lol

The first time I ever experienced embarrassment was in my kindergarten classroom. Our classroom was called “the blue room” because it had blue walls and blue chairs and a big blue oval on the floor (like a track) that was delineated by shiny blue tape. This track was called “the blue line.” At the beginning of each day, The Nice Nun (yeah that’s right, I went to Catholic school from pre-K to college) would tell us to “sit on the blue line,” and we would do roll call and sing songs and learn left from right and, if I remember correctly, learn French? And listen to Beethoven? And speak in sign language but only on Thursdays? (Was my kindergarten a PSYOP???)

One morning as we were sitting on the blue line in the blue room, the door to our classroom was open and I was able to see down the hallway into “the yellow room,” which was the pre-school classroom. I noticed my little brother sitting on “the yellow line” through the yellow room’s open door. We had never before been able to see each other from our respective classrooms, and I was so excited that I tried to get his attention by waving to him. It worked after a few big waves and pssssssts, and soon enough, he was smiling and waving back at me. We were both so happy that we started laughing—not paying attention to whatever French or sign language lesson was happening in our respective classrooms—and all of a sudden, The Mean Nun came charging out of the yellow room and stormed right into the blue room. I was in big trouble.

“YOU’RE DISTRACTING HIM!” she yelled at me, interrupting The Nice Nun’s lesson and silencing my entire class. “You’re in kindergarten now. You need to learn to ACT YOUR AGE!” she bellowed. I’ll never forget her words because it was the first time I heard the word distracting. As she yelled at me, all eyes were on me, and to this day I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever been more embarrassed. The Mean Nun stormed out of the blue room back down the hallway, and I saw The Nice Nun whisper something to her “teacher’s helper,” who noticed that I was on the verge of tears and brought me into the bathroom to intercept my meltdown. After she consoled me, I walked back into the blue room with my head held high and vowed to myself never to be disruptive like that again. I was 6 years old, after all. It was time to act my age.

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Ever since the Blue Room Incident, I’ve always been told I’m mature for my age. I’ve constantly wanted to set a good example for my younger brother, and I’m proud to say I’ve done a good job. When I was in grade school and high school, the teachers would tell my parents during conferences, “Angelina is very mature.” “Angelina is friends with everyone.” “Angelina sets a good example for the other students.” I never fully felt like I was acting my age, however; I often felt I was acting an age or two above mine. As I’m “old for my grade” with a July birthday, I was the first one to get my period and the first one to get my license and the first one to be of legal drinking age—I had no choice but to act a little bit older than my friends… because I was a little bit older.

During my freshman year of college, I still felt more mature than a lot of my friends. They were worried about which fraternity boasted the hottest guys, and I was worried about the feng shui of my dorm room. I wasn’t too eager to go to frat parties at first—I just wanted to go out to dinner at good restaurants and get 8 hours of sleep. (I honestly laugh thinking about this now, because I’ve always been a Good Kid. Way to go, Mom and Dad.) It took me a couple short weeks to realize that if I wanted to make friends and enjoy a normal college experience, I should probably try my hand at becoming a Responsible Party Girl, and I’m glad I did; but by senior year, I was ready for whatever was next. Always a step ahead. Always mature for my age. In my grandmother’s words to my dad, I was “already there.” I think after college, I caught up to my age because of the pandemic—and I try not to think too hard about what my life would be like if that hadn’t happened.

More recently, I read Lola Kirke’s memoir Wild West Village and was immediately locked in as soon as I read the first page. (Actually, I was sold when I saw her and her sister Jemima talk at a Warby Parker event last week, but that’s beside the point.) (It was awesome, btw.) In the introduction of the book, Kirke shares how when she told her mom she was writing a memoir, her mother replied, “Wait—aren’t you a bit young to be writing a memoir?” Kirke is 34 years old, which in my opinion, is a great age to write a memoir. Thirty-four years of content is a lot! After reading her introduction, I closed my book and thought for a moment about how so often we’re told that we’re “too young” or “too old” for something. Who set these thresholds? Where’s the book about what to do at each age? (Besides American Girl’s The Care and Keeping of You…) With social media especially, it feels like there’s a mile-wide spectrum of what you’re supposed to feel like or be doing at your age. To put this into perspective, I know people my age who haven’t quite figured out what they want to do (totally fine), and on the other hand, I have friends and mutuals who are becoming millionaires or are already married or already have kids. (For context, I’m in my late 20s.) Regardless of what end of the spectrum you fall on, I firmly believe that whatever your status is, it’s fine. I say it all the time: comparison is the thief of joy. I don’t think there’s a right or wrong thing to be doing at any age—within reason of course. (Stay in school, don’t do drugs, refill the Brita, etc etc.)

I often reference

Catherine Shannon

’s wonderful piece “How to Make the Most of Your 20s,” which I believe is a great read no matter your age. My favorite takeaways unsurprisingly have to do with lifestyle and the inner self. I believe that if we really are trying to define what it means to act our age, we should look inward. Simple as that. (Maybe that’s not simple? Just pretend it is, and it will be.) In Catherine’s gorgeous words, “You’re not a girlboss, a clean girl, or such a Pisces, you’re you, and there’s no one else quite like you.” Lean into that! It’s all you’ve got that’s distinctly yours.

I’ve recently been watching those “What makes you confident?” videos on Instagram (TLDR; guy walks around NYC asking people what makes them confident), and I’ve been thinking about what my answer would be if he ever were to find me. What makes me confident is that I’ve pretty much always known myself. I know what I like, and I know what I don’t like. I know which clothes I like to wear and which foods I like to eat and what time I need to go to bed in order to be my best self (10:30 PM) and how I prefer movies over television and how I think TikTok is a waste of time (for me, not you!) and how I’ve always wanted to live in New York and how I probably always will. I think because I’ve always known what I like, I haven’t had the time to let others influence me too much, and that’s what makes me confident—because I know that what I’m doing is what’s best for me. I remember going to a friend’s birthday party in 2nd grade where we went to a hair salon and could have our hair done however we wanted. The birthday girl said she wanted a crown braid pinned low on her head, so then everyone wanted a crown braid pinned low on their heads. I, however, did not want that. I distinctly remember telling the hairdresser that I wanted my long hair down and straightened… and that was it. (And I’m smiling as I write this because I basically still wear my hair like that every day.) Straightened hair might’ve been considered “too old” for an 8-year-old, but it was what I liked. It still is what I like. At the end of the birthday party when my mom picked me up, I remember the birthday girl’s mom telling my mom, “She was so well-behaved at the hair salon. She knew exactly what she wanted.” The age didn’t matter, and it doesn’t matter now. What mattered was that I knew what I wanted and it worked best for me.

Speaking of hair, earlier this week I was having my hair dyed from black to very dark brown, which is not much of a difference but Spring Is Coming, and I heard an older woman’s voice croak behind me, “Mariano, do you like Ice Spice?” My hairdresser chuckled, and replied to her, “Honey, I don’t know. I listen to whatever the girls have on.” Then to another hairdresser he said, “Do you like Ice Spice? Roseanne is talking about Ice Spice.” Without waiting for a reply, Rosanne said, “I like Ice Spice,” to herself, smiling. “I like her songs.” Roseanne is a 70-something-year-old white woman with yellow blonde hair and pink lipstick. As the younger hairdressers around her were laughing, I glanced at her in the mirror of my station and could see her looking at her reflection in hers. She was so sure of herself as she talked about her love for Ice Spice. There was no reason to question it. Ice Spice’s average age demographic is nowhere close to Roseanne’s age, but it doesn’t matter. Roseanne’s not too old for Ice Spice. Roseanne just knows what she likes.

I don’t think anyone—children and adults included—should be told to act their age. In reality, I don’t think it means anything. If you know what you like and you know what makes you happy, go after it. Your age will meet your aura. Some of us are using the same eyeshadow palette we’ve had since high school (I can’t be the only one), but it doesn’t mean we’re acting the same as we did in high school. It just means that Urban Decay Naked3 worked for our skin tone and hair color in 2015, and it’s still working for us now. (That was cringe of me but I didn’t know how else to phrase it.) Your outer self will match your inner self however it’s meant to, but that can only happen if you look inward. Figure out what you like. There’s no one else like you!!!!!

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did that make sense? i don’t know if it made sense, but if it resonated with you, you might also like my best friend

emily north

’s piece “if you want to dress better, stop thinking about it”

anyway thank you for 10K+ subscribers i literally am so grateful and still haven’t wrapped my head around it but i love you guys so big THANK YOU FOR READING LUNCH ON FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! follow my new (and very WIP) instagram account (@lunchonfriday_) if you want more xoxoxo ⋆｡♡˚✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩