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Wait, I'm a Grown-Up?

I finally got my tattoo's finished yesterday by the lovely Andrew at New Image Tattoo Studio in Wisbech (Cambridgeshire, England). He did a wonderful job and I'm beyond pleased with them, I'll post photos when they're healed but that's not the point.

We were talking away, as you do when you're stuck in a chair with someone for over 2 hours, I'm sure I bored him half to death. We were talking about when we were kids and at school, he mentioned a particular product that came out while we were in school and I announced "I do remember it coming out, but I'm not that young to have had it" so of course he asked me my age and then said "Oh, I'm younger than you!"

What?!
Since when were people providing services and/or in authority over me younger than me all of a sudden? I'm still 15 years old right? Everyone is older than me!

I realised that the friends I went to school with have now finished university. They have real jobs, some of them are teachers, some of them are doctors (which is a scary thought in and of itself). Although I'm fairly sure I was one of the first of them to get married, they're mostly starting to settle down, get married and have kids. But I certainly don't feel like a real grown-up.

I am now old enough to be referred to as 'the lady' by mothers of young children (don't touch that or the lady will tell you off!)

Out of interest I asked my mum how long this feeling lasts. She said "I don't know, just wait until your doctors start looking like school boys!"

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I am a 24 year old British stay at home mother to a two year old boy. Married to a U.S. soldier and currently living in Germany.

I have seen the Vatican from the very top of St Peter's Basilica, the mud in the World War I trenches outside Ypres. I have walked through Montmartre side streets bustling with people in the evening, gotten lost in the streets of Greenwich Village NYC, run through cornfields on the Welsh border and sat outside with a cup of tea watching fireflies in the fields of the outer Chicago suburbs.

I have held the hands of others through addiction, fear, suicide, despair and come out the other side. I have left everything behind to begin anew.
I have fought mental illness and walked through snow in the mountains of the lake district, England. I have explored the morgue in the bowels of an abandoned hospital on a summer evening, climbed to the top of scaffolding on the outside of a five floor warehouse to look at the city lights of Nottingham at night and I have watched the sun setting on the Texas horizon.

I have held my son's tiny hand through the plastic window on an isolette in the NICU ward. Walked, speaking only in whispers, through the catacombs beneath the ground on the outskirts of Rome and seen the fireworks over Heidelberg castle.

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