Ever since my girl friends started getting engaged, a question that keeps coming up for the fiancée is some version of: “Do you feel like a woman now?” And for every single late-20s and early-30s friend this question was addressed to, they gasped: “I don’t know! Should I?”
It’s a question that lingers. Not because anyone needs a clear answer, but because it reveals something deeper: maybe adulthood doesn’t arrive all at once. For me it showed up in flashes.
1. Foreign Traffic
I’ve mostly lived in cities where I didn’t need a car—Waterloo, Toronto, New York. As a result, my fierceness in driving has weakened. So whenever I travel to countries without public transit and I have to drive, it’s a full mental reset. I have to remind myself that driving is like riding a bike. It’s muscle memory.
Because of this, every time I survive driving in a new country, I feel grown up. Brave enough to drive anywhere in the world except where you have to drive on the other side of the road (a girl’s gotta know her limits). I’ve also concluded as an adult, it’s responsible and smart to rent cars in places with low population density and a strong legal system and road infrastructure—places like Denmark or Germany (the autobahn is actually very fun). Some places are terrible ideas: Paris, France. Anywhere in Albania. Northeast Thailand.
2. Wedding of a Friend
Attending friends’ weddings is a universal “I feel old” experience. What’s more grown up than watching your friends marry another human being?
I think it’s because weddings make everyone reflect on the idea of forever. And whenever I think of forever, I think of lying in my final bed—imagining who will be beside me. My imaginary children (you already know what sports they’ll have played), and maybe some of my friends (sitting down, because they’ll also be old).
As a kid, I never thought much about the past or the future. Weddings changed that.
3. On the Job
This one is obvious: yes, I feel grown up at work.
What’s interesting is this has been true since my very first internship. My reason was, as a small, smiley, and silly Chinese girl, I had to be serious to be taken seriously. This included always believing in my ideas, being prepared for every meeting, speaking up in the right moments, and sounding confident, especially when I know what I’m talking about (maybe more so when the opposite is true…). Tricky business, really.
After reflecting on the many moments over the years when I’ve felt like an adult—at work, behind the wheel, watching friends say “I do”—I realized something funny: even now, I’ve never felt quite as grown up as I did in two very specific moments from my girlhood.
They were awkward. They were thrilling. And they were unforgettable.
4. Charlie’s Dorm Room Call
When I was 11, I was in a private boarding school in Shanghai where cell phones were banned, and we were supposed to focus all our energy on studying advanced math and chemistry. Instead, my friends and I spent a lot of time crushing hard on all the boys in uniform — especially the ones a grade above us.
One day, on the stairs to my classroom, I ran into one of the “coolest” boys from upstairs. His name was Charlie and he was with two friends, everyone stood with their hands in their pockets and left me no gap to slip by and continue my upward climb. Their dress shirts were untucked (a severe dress code violation where transgressors had to sweep the classrooms if caught) and unbuttoned enough to show off the colors of their under shirts — orange and green for the friends, black for Charlie (fashion choices circa 2007). After an awkward pause, one of them handed me a pen and a piece of paper. He said: “Charlie likes you. What’s your dorm room phone number? He will be making a call to you tonight.” I shakily scribbled my number down, too nervous to look up at Charlie at the top of the stairs. The friend pocketed the paper. The three boys turned around and left. The whole time, Charlie just smiled at me.
The second their footsteps disappeared down the hallway, I sprinted to find my roommates. “Charlie from classroom 12 is going to call me tonight!” I squeaked.
That night, I made all my roommates tell their parents not to call our dorm room so I could wait by the phone. I waited for two hours. Finally, the phone rang. I patiently counted three rings before picking up so I wouldn’t seem too eager. Charlie and I talked about math class, weekend plans, and our favorite karaoke songs (hit topics of 11-year-olds). The call lasted 10 minutes. I couldn’t fall asleep until late that night.
The next morning, just as we were getting ready for morning exercise, the phone rang again. It was the same friend. “You’re Charlie’s favorite girlfriend now,” he said. I grinned ear to ear all through morning exercise drills. I felt like a big girl with a real boyfriend right then and there.
5. Ciao Bella
When I was 16, I met my Italian exchange sister, Serena. She lived with me for 4 months in PEI, Canada. Serena is a fierce vegetarian—technically a pastatarian—from Florence who sings and laughs with her whole heart. By the end of her exchange year, we were inseparable. I was devastated when it was time for her to go home. To console me, my parents made a bold decision: they supported me visiting Serena in Florence solo during spring break.
We stayed at her aunt’s downtown apartment. Serena had school, but skipped every class except for her voice lessons to show me her city and her life. So, for ten days straight, we hung out with all her friends and had two espressos for breakfast each day.
During the day, Serena and I tried to fit in with all the fabulous grown women sipping champagne in restaurants at Piazza della Signoria. We wore big sunglasses, vibrant dresses, statement earrings, tiny purses and tall high heels almost everyday. We shopped in fabulous boutiques, designer swimwear stores and tried on handmade leather sandals in between meeting up with friends for Aperol spritz and tequila sunrises (the best cocktail a 16-year-old could come up with) at roadside dive bars with ping pong and pool.
At night, we’d hang out with her friends and various teenage love interests pursuing Serena. I’d get paired off with a friend—none of whom spoke any English.
A lot was lost in translation.
First, I sat through an entire screening of Need for Speed (which was originally produced in English) dubbed in Italian with no subtitles.
Then, I had to ride behind a stranger on his motorbike, holding on tight as we sped up a dark forested hill—only to arrive at a lookout point over the city. The view was great. The ride? I had given my life up to Mother Mary (or “Madonna”) somewhere halfway up.
I went to my first underground techno club where everyone was sweaty, in black leather underwear, dancing aggressively till sunrise.
I had my first crush on a boy who I couldn’t communicate with, and of course, I had my first Marlboro red.
It’s funny—when you’re a kid, the moments that make you feel grown up are often small but seismic. A phone call. A dress. A first cigarette. As an adult, it’s the big things—weddings, work, navigating cities and relationships—that remind you you’ve grown. And yet, even with all that, I’d still say I feel like a girl 95% of the time.
One of the most brilliant and beautiful 70-year-young women I know (love you, Trish, if you’re reading this) once told me she still feels 25—and always has.
Maybe that’s the real secret: feeling grown up isn’t about age or milestones. It’s about staying true to who you are, and noticing the moments when the world feels just a little bigger—and you feel just a little braver.
Until next time,
Bella