Becoming a Grown-Up

This is how I still see myself.

Let me be, if not the first, then the loudest to say that getting older is not all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve always had habits akin to an 80-year-old: never staying up past 10:30 on weeknights, a sensitivity to caffeine, and a strong insistence on reading physical books, newspapers, and magazines over those newfangled Kindle contraptions. I mean what will those whipper-snappers want to put on their iPads next? Toilet paper?!  But recently there have been a number of other things in my life that suggest I’m no longer the pudgy little boy that had to be buttered up to squeeze into his Superman costume. The are in a listicle (list+article) below:

  1. Filing Taxes:
    While I won’t shake a stick at getting a large chunk of money back from the government, it’s weird that this weekend I filled out my taxes by myself for the first time in my life. And to make matters worse, I had to fill out forms about things like 401(k)s, student loans, earned interest, dividends… What!? I thought since I didn’t major in accounting or finance I’d never have to deal with all that nonsense; false.  And once I finished filing my taxes, I wanted to buy something irresponsible to prove that I still could be immature and reckless. What did I buy? Some new bowls and plates from CB2. Yes. I’m officially buying housewares as my “living young and wild and free” moment. I’ve officially sold out to the man; the big, homemaking, nesting single father of a man.
  2. Birthday Parties
    So I’ve explained several times before on this blog how I spend every Friday night with a lovely family for Shabbas dinner. Well, the younger daughter turned 8-years-old this past Friday, and something very strange happened. No longer was I the excited little child with cake smeared on my face, eagerly awaiting the moment that my mom would let me unwrap gifts. I was the guy bringing the gifts. I wrote a thoughtful note, and was even all dressed up. (Actually, all of us “big kids” were dressed up. It was a total New Girl moment, where we all showed up in suits and dresses for an 8-year-old’s birthday party.) But does this mean that I’m not going to get to sit around in my PJ’s anymore eating Mac and Cheese all day watching cartoons??? Or finger-paint?? What’s going to happen to the finger-painting?!
  3. Big Boy Pants
    So after you’ve been working for almost a year, this thing happens where you realize that old adage rings true: “Dress for the job you want, not the one you have.”  Now, I would dress for the job I really want, but I don’t think that my space-cowboy outfit qualifies as “business casual.” Not even in LA. So over the past few months I’ve purchased a few pair of pants or shirts here and there that are a little more subdued in color and flair. But as I’m looking for some new things that satisfy my conservative work place standards and my own personal affinity for gingham and color, I’ve been morphing into those “young business professional” spreads in GQ. That’s not a bad thing, actually quite the opposite. However, I’m no longer in the situation where I can grab a $20 pair of chinos on sale from Urban Outfitters and call it a day. All that time working for flip flop companies and digital start-ups definitely jaded me. Since when did I become the guy who bought pants that cost more than he spends on gas in a month? Wearing big-boy-pants is not nearly as fun as I thought…


So, if you have any suggestions on how to make me feel like a chubby little dude in a Superman costume again, I’d greatly appreciate it. If you have an actual Superman costume that you could send, e-mail me and I’ll give you the address you can send it to… in the meantime, I’ll be downing mint Oreos in an attempt to get that chubby again.


Ciao Bella!

Matteo Yazge


One response to “Becoming a Grown-Up

  1. Little Superman with the creative, hyperactive brain had the “funnest” Noah Zark game, taking all the cushions off the furniture to make a ramp for all of us beasties to climb into the ark (couch). Those were the days. Probably if I didn’t have the pleasure of living just up the coast from you as you endure your first big boy job eating Nestle’s candy all day, I would still think of you as that little guy. Growing up is hard to do. Growing old is harder. Neither one is mandatory. Many folks choose NOT to grow up and many don’t get the honor and blessing of growing old. I am proud of you for choosing to grow up. And for the birthday gifts and big boy pants and for buying dishes instead of recreational drugs. (Who needs drugs when you have Nestle’s!!) Here’s to staying flexible and grateful.

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