Marly Unmarginated

“Not a single adult asked me if I could run fast in my new shoes today. Being an adult is stupid” This quote stopped me in my tracks.

The other day I put on brand new shoes. Shiny, squeaky, full of possibility. And you know what? Not a single person asked me if I could run fast in them. Zero. Nada. None. Remember when new shoes automatically meant you were a track star? You’d zoom around the playground, proudly showing off your neon laces or lights, just waiting for someone to ask “How fast can you run in those?” Then you would sprint like you were chasing the ice cream truck.

Fast forward to adulthood, you wear new shoes into the office and what do you get? Not a single inquiry about your speed. Just a polite “cute shoes” or ” those look comfortable.” Excuse me, Brenda, but these aren’t boring shoes or orthopedic loafers, they’re my zoomies capable of breaking the sound barrier. Recognize.

That is just one of the ways adulthood robs us of fun. Adulthood kind of forgets about the magic. As kids, we fought naps like they were a human rights violation. Now kids get naps with soft blankets and lullabies. Adults? We get burnout and “power naps” in awkward positions and places, waking up with a crick in our neck and drool. Honestly, if society built in daily nap time with juice boxes, productivity would skyrocket.

At age seven, you could wow a whole crowd with your cartwheel or recorder solo. At over fifty, your “talent” is remembering your passwords to everything. No applause, no participation ribbon, just the sound of silence.

When you were little, birthdays meant balloons, cakes, friends, fun and bouncy houses. As an adult? Someone takes you to dinner, maybe. Where’s my pinata, Karen? Where’s the bubble machine?

As kids, we could turn to a cardboard box into a spaceship, a castle or a time machine. Now we just grumble about how Amazon left it on the wrong porch or having to haul them to recycling.

We used to eat dessert or cereal for dinner without judgement. As an adult, if you dare pour a bowl of Lucky Charms at 6 pm, people look at you like a reckless daredevil “not making healthy choices.” Meanwhile, kale still tastes like disappointment

Back then, stickers were currency and they made you feel like Einstein. Do a good job? Boom, gold star. Win a spelling bee? Scratch-n-sniff grape sticker. Now the only stickers I get are the ones stuck to apples that I can’t peel off properly or the ones that make you cuss when you step on them.

So yes, being and adult is stupid. But maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe next time you see someone in fresh sneakers, you should ask the most important question “But can you run fast in them?” Because fun isn’t dead. It’s just buried under bills, emails, responsibility and an unholy amount of laundry.

We all still want to race across the playground in new sneakers, stickers on our shirts, frosting on our faces, and not a single care about kale. So if all else fails, grab a juice box, slap a sticker on your shirt and sprint down the hallway. I promise, it’ll feel better than kale.

From the margins where the magic lives…Marly.