In almost every single chick flick there is a scene where one character will offer their guest a drink, “Wine? Red? White? Beer?”. For some reason these particular scenes have primed my mind to think that a real person has more than one type of beverage on hand to offer guests.

On Friday, as I was unloading the latest deskdrop into my fridge I was faced with a very daunting image. A bottle of summery Moscato was chilling in the right corner and a variety of what is arguably a local micro brew in the form of Mill St was sandwiched by the ever classic Buds. There was even a box of Budweiser NA (newly launch Prohibition Brew) sitting on my kitchen counter waiting to be unloaded. Not only did I have a variety of alcoholic beverages in my fridge, I even had a non-alcoholic adult beverage to offer guests. What am I now? A scripted character? A real person?

Taking a step backwards, the packed upper shelves brought a more familiar tone. These shelves housed food that was not mine. The spinach, smoked paprika tofu, and salads all belonged to my roommate. Even my shelf held food that was not mine; a bag of oranges “borrowed” from my parents’ house and a half-eaten cupcake lifted from the office (from the night where misplaced keys prompted 2 cupcakes to act as dinner).

For some reason now that I am a year removed from being a student I feel societal expectation where I can either be a struggling (relatively) new grad or a starred employed adulting individual. What ever happened to taking baby-steps?

Currently I am a resident of the student-y Annex, I go home on weekends (sometimes with my laundry), and I still shape my off-hours around workouts (like I did as a student). But on the flipside, I am capable of rolling into the office on time for 9AM meetings and adult-y things like rent, packing lunches that contain quality vegetables and protein, and making sure the shoes make it to the shoe rack. The snap of my fridge adequately summarizes my current situation in life; not yet a real person but on track to being one.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. Detached homes in Toronto can’t be purchased as a starter home. I went home over the weekend and before I showed my mom my latest shoe purchase I crawled into her lap, she looked over at me and said, “Baby steps.”


***Disclosing that I am an employee of Labatt Breweries of Canada. I was not paid to write this post. All words and thoughts are my own.

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