Growing up as a beigey WASP I never knew the splendors of the coming of age celebration. No Bat Mitzvah for me. No wedding-like Quinceanera.
When I first got my period my mother grew weepy, called my Aunt, gave me a butterfly wing locket and announced my bleeding at the dinner table to mixed reviews. In between sniffed metaphors describing my metamorphosis into a young woman, my little sister noted that I had leaked onto the dining room chair, and my dad managed a grunt in between bites of pot roast.
I grew up reading Judy Blume and swimming at our local Jewish Community pool with my cousins. I went through a phase where I wanted to be Jewish like Margaret wanted boobs and a menstrual cycle.
After this last Christmas, I found myself again considering a conversion. Right around December 23, the point each year where I either threaten to run away or self-inflict a head wound in the hopes of a coma through the new year, I told Bob this was our last Christmas as gentiles.
I am more of a summer break girl myself. All this transfatty goodness/party with the neighbors/spend all my money American way to have Christmas is getting a little stale.
Then I thought of eight days of presents for the six people in our house, plus the relatives.
I think I'd rather just have the Bat Mitzvah? It's only 23 years late, I'm sure there is a loophole in the procedure, no?
So I am making 2008 my extended coming of age celebration.
I feel like this year holds great things, and I feel ready to spread my wings. How about you? Shall we come of age together?