I'm not your mom (I promise)

(Happy New Year!)

I blame my voice recorder. I was fine until then -- my shoulders set back a little straighter, my words chosen a little more carefully as I converse with strangers, my eyes targeting the eyes of strangers. Only an adult and RSP* could display such confident body language.

And then there are the tangibles that show adulthood, like the car or furniture. Then there's the first steps onto the career track, the GICs and RRSPs, and the thoughts of buying a condo close to work.

Talk about being an adult, a grown-up, a big person. What the hell, right? I was a squeaky-voiced teenager at Zellers Smellers (or Zellers Hellers) only a few years ago being yelled at by fat, old women trapped in their jobs, doing the same work and being in the same financial situation as a 19-year-old girl.

I felt so adult up until that voice recorder that I started to smile appreciatingly at babies and toddlers, thinking, "Yeah, one day I think I'd like to get me one of those and be one of those 'mom things,' so I can get promoted to a grandma position."

And even though this was all just a wandering thought (so don't worry, boyfriend), I was jonesing for some mom time.

And then I heard myself on tape -- a squeaky-voiced girl with a ridiculously stupid, fake laugh. Why didn't anybody tell me I'm still Nerd Girl? Didn't you see that I was only just lost in an adult cloud and not actually an adult?

Sigh, shudder, for shame.

With a voice like mine, I can't spawn; it's too cute and clean and desperate to be liked and respected (but inside I hear a deeper, stronger womanly voice, almost tomboyish somedays).

So I can't be a mom anytime soon (unless by accident or God pokes me like he did with the "Virgin" Mary [are those quotations sacrilege?]). So until my voice catches up to the rest of my adult characteristics, I'll play baby-keep-away and sit in my parents' basement playing Nintendo with my legs firmly shut.

-- Girl on the Corner (using her voice as birth control)

*Recovering Shy Person