Lately she’d found herself invoking adulthood more and more, but in the most childish of ways: ice cream for breakfast, for one. A child’s urge to fill up on Rocky Road in lieu of food groups or the food pyramid or whatever they were supposed to be teaching in elementary school now but weren’t because there were standardized tests every week or so, right?—this was an irrational desire, predicated solely on the anticipation of pleasure. Whereas her early (not that early, to be honest) dairy intake was the result of sober and thoughtful decision-making, to wit: Cereal and milk is a totally legitimate Complete Breakfast, even when sugar is involved. What is ice cream, then, but a novel and creative substitute, and Rocky Road in particular, with its marshmallows and almonds, providing in addition good proteins and the fats they actually tell you to eat? The absence of grain is hardly a mitigating factor, as the modern American diet is lousy with carbs. But really, nachos, combining thus dairy AND grain, are an even more adult and responsible substitute for said cereal. Nothing immature about it at all.
Nor, she maintained, was there immaturity to read into the seven or so pairs of Hello Kitty undies in her drawer: for one thing, they were mostly boyshort style, giving more coverage to the early-thirties female buttock than silly college-girl thongs. Also, the prevalence of Ms. Kitty on household décor and appliances (like her toaster, or her shower curtain) pegs her as part of adult culture. Also, the fact that increasingly she’s grown out of or given away her HK outerwear—hoodie, T-shirt, she thinks she had a skirt once—is definitely a sign of Maturity and Grown-up-ness, as she moves this beloved character into the realm of accessory (thus signaling her ancillary status) and privacy. She’d be less mature if she didn’t wear Hello Kitty underwear.
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