Growing Up as a 21-year-old / 21岁正式长大
I went to Copenhagen on Valentine’s day to buy a dress for my birthday (it is just four days after Valentine’s day). The dress I found made me feel different about myself.
After searching for a long time, I finally come across a fantastic dress shop which had all kinds of evening dresses with different length and colours. I tried a short one with a black-and-white stripe pattern. When standing by a mirror, I was surprised by myself: I had such a beautiful body shape with a slender waist and long legs, and a pair of high-heeled shoes in flesh colour made me lankier. A short black lace cape enlightened me to be more elegant. I looked so different than I normally do.
Suddenly, I recalled the moment when I first tried to dress up as a “real” women at the age of thirteen. It was a Saturday afternoon, and I was alone at home. I put on a long dress and a pair of high-heels from my mother’s wardrobe. And I also stole some make-up, putting lipsticks and eyeshadow on my face. It was the first time I had imagined and decorated myself as a mature female— I was so excited. Although I must have looked ridiculous in the mirror: the dress was too long, and I could barely move with a pair of high-heels. I was also a bit worried that my mother would suddenly come back and discover my little tricks. So the “pretend-to-be-a-woman” only last for 30 minutes. After the final step to take off the high-heels, I felt I had landed— to who I was.
“You looked fantastic.”
“You would definitely stand out at a party.”
Words said by the owner of the shop made me back to the earth. Yes, now, I do not need to pretend to be grown up — I wear make-up every day, and I does not mind even putting heavy ones in parties; I can handle 5cm high-heeled shoes, wearing them even on rainy days; My wardrobe is also filled with all kinds of clothes — formal and informal; student-like and professional; sports outfit and dancing dress—it was more diverse than my mom’s that I found at the age of thirteen.
But I also recalled that how tearful and lost it was growing up as a girl: I was always trying to be a straight-A student to meet others’ expectation, but I could not stop asking myself what my real interest was and what kind of person I wanted to be. I once liked reading and writing since primary school, and dreamed to become a writer in the future. I always finished homework quickly in order to read books freely at home. But afterwards in high school, I found myself gradually occupied by school tasks — memorising textbooks and calculating with formula. I found them boring but adults taught me that they were way more useful to get good grades than various extra-curriculum books and “stupid” novel writings. I gradually lost my interests and forced to be homogenised with anybody else — Yes, I looked as a nerd, though emotional and sensitive in nature. I was buried and also lost, in the way that most people thought was right and the best.
On the way to seeking what I really was, I also imagined how my dream boy would be like. He would be absolutely tall and handsome, with humour and wisdom. It is better if he also likes reading, so we could discuss plots and characters in a book for the whole afternoon. We would go for a movie together, and afterwards wandering on a starry night along a river. I was so innocent to imagine that there is no conflict and quarrel while falling in love. But not until trying my first love in college, I found that love always mixes with bitterness and joy. Love is also so complicated and impossible to get known before I know what kind of person I exactly am. After breaking up, I know how important it is to gain confidence from the inner. I started reading and traveling again, also recording every precious moments in my life. Now I understood why I looked more mature than I used to — Yes, I am supposed to.
Feb. 2017. Lund, Sweden
