On kidhood and adulthood.

I am running.

Running like a maniac through the dim hallways of the late-night cinema, I pass doors with neon lights and posters of celebrities that try to snap me up with their smiles. My pretty little black sandals are my soft-trodden wings. I am running as fast as I can so that I can get back to my comfy cinema seat… so that I can watch Natalie Portman (the current love of my life) as she breaks her love barrier in No Strings Attached (awesome flick by the way).

 And as I break through the “Extremescreen” cinema doors, clutching my ticket with sweaty hands, the dark theatre engulfs me once more; I slow down to a stroll. Time to be an adult now. I am brought back to full awareness as I realise that people will now be watching me as I enter to take my seat.

I smooth my hair back. I adjust my walking style. I carry my face differently; slightly upturned, an air of indifference. I smooth my clothes into place. And there. I have entered the scrutiny of society once more: I have learnt to play the game like a true movie heroine.

The sad part is, as I take my red cushiony seat (and cross my legs demurely like a lady) I am reminded of what it felt like to be a child again. And I realised that I’ve been trying to play this adult “society” game from the moment I turned 16 or 17…. And how sad it is that I have to try really hard nowadays to pick up where I left off. The real me. The tomboyish, nerdy, don’t give a shit how I look or how I sound, I’m just gonna be me…. Me. And that actually is my favourite me.

The best memories of being young were the days I would roam free on my bike. My dad handmade my bike. Bet ya didn’t know that? My clever little old man constructed my bike with parts of old bikes that he collected from the tip. That’s why my bike had an aqua frame but pink handlebars. That’s why the bell never stayed upright. That’s probably why my brakes were insanely dodgy. But it was my bike…. And it got me everywhere I needed to go.

There was a hill, a peak in my daily cruise to the shops, where I would hike my legs up up up, and then fly down that broad black road like an absolute crazy nutcase kid. I’d even do the head down thing to get more speed. And I never wore my helmet. It’s like the little signs of rebellion were already set into place (and it totally explains why I always refuse to drive at the speed limit nowadays…. Meh).

And I would squeak into place at the bike rack and swagger into the air-con doors, barefooted, no worries. No lock on the bike. Who the hell would want to steal that bike anyway? That was the best thing about it: security was a non-issue.

And I think back on that old version of myself, and I kinda miss the attitude I used to have. I was never embarrassed or scared of anything.

I would ride to school with all the boys, and race them down the backstreets. Nothing made me happier than beating a group of pussy guys at their own game. Because back in those days, I was not one who said no to a challenge. Often people would see me racing all the boys during sprint training in P.E., or kicking a footy at lunchtime. Even as I write these words, I’m thinking, what the hell happened to me? Just the other week I went for a run and tripped over. Seriously, fell flat on my face and scraped up my knees and shoulder (and cried). Shit, the old me would’ve laughed it off and kept running. No, wait. The old me would not have fallen over in the first place, you clumsy girly loser.

Of course, my friends still remember the old me, and often laugh when people dare me to do something “ohhhh no, don’t dare Rose to do it, she’ll seriously do it!!” and it’s all a bit of a joke now. But oh, it’s been so long since I’ve really felt the spiritual freedom of not being limited to machines, makeup and GHDs.

Small things make me feel alive again. Going on the swings with my nephews. Falling back on the grass at the local park, and not caring who is watching. Peeing in the ocean. Going on little-kid rides at the Royal Show (which is pretty easy when you’re my height). Eating ice-cream. If you see me eating ice-cream, you’ll understand why.

Sometimes I think that there must be a lot of people missing out on the good things. If you’re ever feeling old, just try it out, I dare ya. Next time you’re at the movies, sidle out for a short toilet break. And just as you break out through the doors, sprint your way down the hallway, flying. And if someone passes your way and stares at you with upturned eyebrows, give them a wink and a smile.

It might just be the wake-up call that they need.