I get offended when someone calls me a ‘girl’ but I struggle to take myself seriously when I’m referred to as a ‘woman’. Is there a middle point between the two – maybe that’s what the song I’m not a girl, not yet a woman is all about.

When I think of being a girl, I think of being silly and a bit naieve. There’s a quote from the great Gatsby where Daisy says “I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool”. Being a girl makes me think of falling head over heels for a boy who doesn’t know my name and giggling about it to my friends. I think of younger me dancing in the mirror of my bedroom to Britney spears wearing makeup and sparkly clothes. I think of daydreaming about what life could look like if I were married to my celebrity crush. Being a girl makes me think of sleepovers, dress up, sharing secrets with friends.

Being a woman makes me think of being independent and sexy. Being powerful and capable. Choosing a partner rather than waiting for them to choose you. To me being a woman means speaking your truth, not putting up with shit, following what you want, committing to friends and family, standing on your own feet, being your most authentic self. I think of being a “boss bitch”.

But, what I really truthfully feel when I hear the word ‘woman’ is a ton of messy unsaid bits….

I think of the diets, the comparing to your friends, the working and worrying, the boundaries being crossed, boundaries being shamed. I think of waxing, cleaning, washing, marrying, committing. A part of me doesn’t want to grow up and lose the silliness of being that girl creating and playing freely, but another part of me feels I’ve already unconsciously done this. I’ve shamed the parts of me that has the crushes, the parts that play and create for the sake of it, the girl who loves lounging and daydreaming. To me, as a woman, things feel more serious. It’s all about wearing suits, producing, fixing and excelling instead of wearing dresses, creating, messing and loving.

I don’t believe girls should be limited to this powerless silly pretty thing. I just think this productive patriarchal society has led me to shame the playful loving parts of me full of curiosity and a desire to be free. It’s all so confusing. I want to be loving but I also want to be loved. I want to live a life that feels good to me, but I also want to look pretty. I want to be my weird self but I also want people to like me. I want to be this confident independent woman comfortable in my own skin, but I don’t always feel like this. I feel torn between the little girl who wants to play and the woman who wants me to be the best she can be. Maybe being a ‘woman’ is one big paradox.

I try my best to love and accept my body as it is but a part of me will always find a way to criticise and compare it. I try my best to let myself be silly and free and imperfect but a part of me wants to be more organised and self-assertive. I think this pursuit of being a woman feels pretty exhausting and it’s really complicated to put words to what it means. Maybe I’m not meant to explain it.

I recently noticed a chip in my tooth and it didn’t bother me until someone recommended a dentist that could fix it. I thought I looked good in a dress till my friend suggested I try on another one. I sometimes wonder am I wasting away the potential of my youth and if I should put more of an effort into my looks. Then I wonder if I should put more of an effort into my work or if I should just be letting go a little and enjoying myself more. If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I don’t know it all and neither do any of us. I don’t know the right way to live. What I do know is that I don’t want to just be a girl, and I don’t want to just be a woman. I want to be me. I’m not sure how to describe what that means. And maybe this refusal to be limited by labels says enough about me.

Below is a poem I wrote about being a ‘fully grown woman’. Enjoy!

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I got really upset when a boy stopped talking to me

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I mourned the loss of my teddy

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I kicked and roared with rage after my boundaries were crossed again

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I ran home crying to my mum because I felt I had no one

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I worried about whether or not my outfit looked good enough

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I turned red and stuttered when making a new friend

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I burnt out from exhaustion wishing I could be put in a mental institution

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I said ‘yeah sure okay’ when I really wanted to say ‘no not ever no way’

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until my laundry pile built up unwashed clothes thrown in the one spot

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I ran out of money after buying too many coffees

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until my fake nail fell off and someone said you missed a spot

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I was dancing to Hannah Montana with my best friend

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I drank too many gin and tonics fell off a chair and needed to vomit

I thought I was a fully grown woman

Until I decided I don’t want to be one.

It’s exhausting pretending to be perfect.

I’m done with it.