I’m cranky and in pain and I want to chew things. And I’m 24 years old.

It would seem that when I had surgery at 16 to remove my wisdom teeth, they only took two of them. I was unconscious so I didn’t count them, I just assumed that they were gone and had resigned myself to the fact that I would never be wise. At 16, this didn’t bother me hugely. I remember wanting to be prettier, thinner, smarter, taller and nicer, but never wiser.

Now that I’m in my twenties, I think a little wisdom could come in handy. Perhaps it is the key to adulthood that seems to consistently elude me.

When I made my confirmation, I was told that I’d have to stand in the church for an hour but I’d make bagloads of cash money. I was also told that I was becoming an adult in the eyes of the church. Fantastic. I bought a phone.

My first period apparently heralded my biological arrival into womanhood. There were whispered congratulations from my female relatives and I got chocolate (which may have started a pattern).

I remember my first kiss, my first drink and various other painful and pleasurable firsts that were supposed to make me a grown-up. These milestones would bring me into the secret club where everyone has their shit together, and they all say “sorry about the aggressive hazing, but you’ve made it now!”.

Getting my wisdom teeth has GOT to be the last hurdle. I haven’t been rewarded, through money or sweets or affection, so there better be some light at the end of this tunnel. It hurts, I can’t chew or talk properly, and I don’t feel any wiser.

If this is it, my final transition into adulthood and wisdom, I’d like to put them back please. I still eat biscuits for breakfast. I still leave my laundry until I’ve run out of knickers. I still get ridiculous, unrequited crushes on the wrong people. This is not the lifestyle of a mature woman of wisdom. It’s the lifestyle of a 24 year old child with sore gums.


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