Post 2: Allow me to introduce myself

Post 2: Hello. Let me introduce myself. My name is Holly Kuchik. You may be wondering why I’m introducing myself to a group of people who already know who I am. Ah, it’s because most of you don’t really know me. Don’t worry, this is intentional on my part. It’s mostly due to my fear of judgement and a need to fit in. I’m 36 years old. I’m going to guess that most of you don’t know that, mostly because I avoid the subject like the plague. My age is probably one of the biggest things I “hide.” Why? I started dating Terrace when I was 20, and he’s eight years older than me. I spent my 20s just trying to feel like I deserved a seat at the table with people who have at least eight years on me. In thinking about this, I realized that I’m not entirely sure anyone was actually judging me based on my age or if it was how I interpreted the comments that came out after they found out. “OMG, you’re just a baby.” “Hey, do you remember (blank) show. Of course you don’t; you’re too young.” I mean, was it really necessary to comment? I didn’t go around being all like “Good, gawd, you’re how old?! Wow! How was it when dinosaurs roamed the earth?” Some things don’t need to be commented on, you know? On one hand, I felt smart enough to be there, but I’d be reminded of the “life experience” they had and how could I know anything; I was only (blank) years old. I got tired of the polite “ha ha, I know, I’m soooo young. (enter sarcastic voice, polite smile, and an eyeroll I hoped they didn’t see),” so I just quit talking about it. Terrace also knew this topic was off limits, so if it got brought up, I gave him the look of “unless you really want to have this fight again on the way home” death glare. He caught on pretty quick (smart guy 😉). I was 25 when Charli started playschool. Trying to conform to what a “good mom” does, I volunteered to be playschool president. Ugh, I was the youngest mom there. What the f*ck was I thinking? “Holly, just fake it, pretend, don’t tell them how old you are or they won’t take you seriously.” (Side note: I met some pretty awesome moms while my kids were in playschool) I’ve been waiting to feel “old enough” to have some street cred, to be smart enough, or have enough life experience that someone pulls the chair out for me at "the table." My lightbulb: I’ll always be the youngest. If my age defines what I’m capable of or how smart I am to someone else, that’s a “them problem,” not a “me problem.” I’m 36 years old, and I’m f*cking proud of it.

Feb 23, 2020, 7:52 AM