BETWEEN THE LINES: GROWING UP ISN'T THAT HARD TO DO; IT'S JUST SHOCKING

"Youth is a religion from which one always ends up being converted." -- Andre Malraux

Something has happened that I thought never would happen -- I became an adult. Until it happens to you, you don't realize just how devastating it can be.

One day I realized I had gotten older -- I was an ADULT.

It's sort of like watching "Peter Pan" and seeing Wendy without Peter Pan or Christopher Robin leave the Hundred Acre Woods without Winnie-the-Pooh. You just feel sad.

But the worst part wasn't getting older, it was actually becoming an adult. And I own up to it. I'm the pay-your-bills, show-some-responsibility, go-to-bed-before-1-a.m. kind of adult. When did this happen? How did I miss the warning signs? Couldn't somebody have stopped me before I went too far?

I'm not just talking about growing older, I'm doing OK with the age thing. It's becoming a responsible adult -- the kind teen-agers think aren't any fun -- that truly worries me.

I knew I was getting old when the '70s came back. I was born in the '70s, and I remember wearing bellbottoms and clogs. I also remember telling my mother I would never wear bellbottoms again. So far so good.

Another sign of my old age probably showed up when I was shopping at the mall and saw teen-age girls in the latest styles. (With all the sales, I probably just didn't notice as easily.)

Teen-age girls seem to be wearing shorter, skimpier skirts. I never would have been allowed out of the house in those fashions. Nor would I buy them now -- they look too young.

But the single-largest determining factor in my realization came during a campus visit with my brother. (Since the said event, he keeps reminding me that he is YOUNGER.)

My brother is thinking about returning to college after a yearlong hiatus. He needed the time to discover just exactly what he wants to be when he grows up. (I hope he decides soon so he can get it over with and join me in my misery.)

So we took off on a crisp, fall day two weeks ago to see what a regional university had to offer.

I know that I haven't been to college in two years, but it's not that long ago, really. After we check in for our tour, I realize there's going to be a problem.

Three girls had been chosen to guide us across a campus a quarter of the size of the school my brother last attended. First of all, there's not enough room on the campus to get lost. We circled the entire place just driving through town. Secondly, three tour guides for every two visitors is overkill. But I obliged. I'm along for moral support anyway, so what do I care?

The tour lasts 45 minutes -- about 30 minutes too long for my taste. But the clincher comes during a stop at the dormitory. Tour guide A tells us about the options and appliances you can keep in your room. Although hot plates are not allowed in the room because it's a fire hazard, you can sneak them up, she says.

Her friend, Tour guide B, replies, "That should make them feel really safe, with the mom around!"

The MOM! Probably to a college freshman I am old, I admit. But I don't really look old enough to have a college-age son. I didn't even correct her because I was so shocked. My reply should have been, "I am the older sister, not the MOM!"

My brother didn't utter a sound. We laughed about it later, but it's been bothering me for a week. I talked with some college girlfriends last weekend who agreed that we are getting old.

I know growing up is a fact of life, but it never bothered me before. I kind of liked the thrill of turning 16 and getting a driver's license. At 18, I moved away to school. By 22, I had a college degree and new job. Growing up wasn't bad with those sorts of rewards.

But now there's not a milestone to reach, unless a drop in your insurance rate counts. That's the next big event for me.

What happened? I'd been coasting along and suddenly I had transformed into an adult.

Couldn't somebody have warned me?

~Laura Johnston is a copy editor for the Southeast Missourian.