Another email forwarded to me. hehehe. This syndrome is starting to seep into me. =)

Attack of Peter Pan Syndrome
By Pam Pastor
Inquirer News Service

SATURDAY night found me in a condo unit in the middle of the city,
getting sloshed at a friend's bridal shower. In the middle of the
drinking, stripping, dancing and laughing, it hit me.

We really are growing up.

The signs have been here for a while now, and even more so these
past few weeks.

Factoid #1: You know you're growing up when your weekend itinerary
includes baptisms, weddings and bridal showers of people not related
to you.

Someone on my high school batch's mailing list sent wedding pictures
of an old classmate. It's hard to believe that people my age have
successfully planned weddings when not too long ago, we were still
planning our debuts.

Just days later, I received a text message from an old seatmate who
told me she's seven months pregnant. That baby is about to become my
fourth godchild. It's hard to think of her as a mom when I still
remember her as the girl who almost got kicked out of Geometry class
with me for trying to memorize the lyrics of Donna Lewis' "I Love
You Always Forever" instead of focusing on our polygons.

Factoid #2: You know you're growing up when you start thinking of
your school days as the good old days.

When I was still in school and I would complain about it, adults
would turn wistful and inevitably drop one of these lines, "I miss
school." "I'd quit my job and trade places with you in a
minute." "When you get out, you'd do anything to get back in." I had
to resist the strong urge to give them a nice little kick and settle
for rolling my eyes. Now, just months after getting my degree, I'm
doing the same thing. And my brother and cousins are the ones
rolling their eyes at me.

Truth be told, there's strange comfort in those times when our
potentially biggest problems were really comparatively small. When
the biggest consequences of our actions would just be a failing
grade and the worst would be being expelled from school.

Factoid #3: You know you're growing up when you and your friends
start sentences with, "Do you remember when... ?"

Do you remember when you cut yourself with a kitchen knife and your
mom thought someone was murdered in the bathroom? Do you remember
when you walked into that glass door and left an imprint of your
face on it? You actually have a history with people - and revisiting
that has become a major kick, a welcome break from your life's
realities.

Factoid #4: You know you're growing up when you and your friends
start to get jaded.

Excitement over first relationships has been replaced with cynicism.
Everyone gets wary of everyone else's partners. Everyone's gone
through something - and the rest start acting like the relationship
police.

Factoid #5: You know you're growing up when you start acting like a
condescending adult.

One night, I was out with friends when a group of adolescent girls
walked past us. They were heavily made up and scantily clad.

"Jailbait," one of us said.

"What are they wearing?" another one said.

"They're just children!" a third one said.

Or there would be times we'd be out and there would be a group of
boisterous teenagers at another table. They would always be met with
raised eyebrows and snide remarks, as if we were never like them
before, as if we don't still act like them sometimes.

Factoid #6: You know you're growing up when adult stuff has become
your stuff.

Talking to friends used to revolve mostly around favorite bands,
television shows, crushes and how strict our parents are. We still
do that now -- minus the part about the strict parents -- but a lot
of saliva is also wasted on discussions about work hours, security,
benefits, settling down, life partners, getting ready for the
future. Your friend who used to spend all his time playing video
games is now starting his own business. The classmate who was a whiz
in Math class is now handling real accounts. The cousin who once let
her younger sister pull out her tooth is now a dentist.

Factoid #7: You know you're growing up when money becomes an issue.

Goodbye, allowance, hello, anxiety. Realizing that your parents
aren't there anymore to answer your every whim, you start being more
responsible about your expenses. Lapses in judgment lead to
consequences that would impart a lesson or two.

Factoid #8: You know you're growing up when you realize you're
harder to please.

Heaven used to be having my grandparents take me shopping for Sanrio
goodies or tons of books. Then came the time when seeing a crush
smile was enough to make my heart soar. Now, happiness lies
elsewhere-and a lot of us haven't discovered where.

Factoid #9: You know you're growing up when you start being a source
of embarrassment for younger relatives.

Face it, older relatives have been the reason behind a lot of our
most hideous moments as teenagers. What about the aunt who insisted
on interviewing your girlfriend? Or the great-uncle who liked
snapping his dentures in public?

My younger cousin was buying something and I kept trying to bargain
with the man. The man refused to budge but that didn't stop me. My
cousin had to nudge me to shut me up. Hilarious, I thought, when I
realized he thought what I had been doing was embarrassing.

Factoid #10: You know you're growing up when people around you start
recognizing it too.

Just last Sunday, while my masseuse was kneading my back, she
said, "Pwede ka nang mag-asawa." I would have protested loudly but
my face was muffled by the pillow.

A few lunches ago, my father turned to me and asked when I was
getting married. It was hard to believe that the question came from
my father who, just some years back, freaked out when he realized
that the huge bar of chocolate in the fridge came from a guy who was
about to become my boyfriend.

Before I could even respond, he declared that he wanted a grandchild
by the time he was 50. I almost choked. He's turning 50 in less than
a year.

Funny. Get married and have kids when I am barely out of my
haphazard romances phase?

People respond to growing up in two ways -- there are those who
embrace it and those who fight it. I still haven't decided which one
I am.

But then, my subconscious may have already decided for me.

While my friends are getting married, moving in together, having
babies, starting their own companies, getting completely serious
about their worlds and their future, I've been acting even more like
a kid.

I've watched "Finding Nemo" three times. I've ordered Happy Meals
because I wanted the Betty Spaghetty toys. My best friend J and I
have been going to toy stores more often. I still read children's
books -- my Judy Blumes and Roald Dahls and Beverly Clearys. I enjoy
pestering my younger brother even more now. I went to a sari-sari
store and looked for the candies of my childhood. My cousins and I
left the house at two in the morning and went to a 24-hour diner in
our pajamas. Now that's not very adult-like, is that?

Those are the effects of my Peter Pan syndrome.

I used to think that I would relish every step toward being an
adult. After all, I have long been clamoring for freedom and
independence. But now that it's staring me in the face, I find
myself reluctant to jump in. There is so much to love and cherish
about being young. I refuse to let that go yet.

But then, I think about my grandma who, at 75, is still the epitome
of coolness, who exercises every morning, wears rubber shoes, texts,
is an excellent mall buddy and remains a word wizard. I look at my
other set of grandparents who still date up to now. I think about my
grandma who has a crush on Bill Pullman, listens to Josh Groban,
adores Sandra Bullock, has excellent taste in clothes and likes
shopping for me, my brother and cousins. I think about my grandpa
who has done so much with his life, who discovers the best places to
go to even before I hear about them and is so smart he'd be my
lifeline if I joined the now dead "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?"
And I realize there is a way to become an adult and still embrace
your youth.

So maybe growing up isn't so bad after all. As long as it doesn't
mean having to give up my Happy Meals.