When I was about 10 years old, I went sledding with my 12-year-old brother and his friend. They were talking about something a few feet away. When I asked what, I was told, "You're too young to understand." To this day, I still want to know what I was missing.

Of course, my brother can't remember.

All my life I've heard that I'm too young. I grew up the baby in the family, with two older brothers to keep tabs on me and two parents to worry what their little girl was (and is) up to at all times.

Now that I have been an adult for many years, I hate hearing how I'm too young for this or that. While I don't mind being reminded of my youth, I abhor hearing how being in my 20s is distasteful to those older than I am.

Earlier this month, I officially hit my late 20s. When my coworkers cut the traditional office birthday cake, a 30-something coworker asked my age and rolled her eyes in disgust when I told her. She's also the same person who refers to my other third-decade coworker and myself as the "kid clique." The last time I heard the word clique was in high school.

No matter how old I get or how much I mature, I find that the women before me don't seem to buy that my age doesn't automatically make me irresponsible, nor does it make me a threat to them. This has never become more apparent than as I write about my wedding, an issue that seems to ruffle the feathers of these same women.

I know that marriage is a risky business, and I know that I have a lot to learn and that it could all go terribly wrong.

But their mistakes are not mine to repeat, and they are not in the position to judge. At a Super Bowl party this past year, my fiance and I were betting on the outcome of the game. I made a sarcastic suggestion that we should bet his 401(k); he laughed.

Unfortunately, a formerly engaged acquaintance overheard and felt the need to scold me. "Maybe you shouldn't be getting married if that's the way you think," she said.

I realize that her statement undoubtedly came from her past hurts, but butting in to teach me a lesson serves me no good and only makes her look bitter.

LIFE FILES What Advice Do You Have For Laura? E-mail our advice columnists Life Files Archive

Over the past few months, I've been writing openly about the struggles Jack and I have gone through during this stressful time, at the risk of him coming off like a jerk and me coming off like an idiot.

As I forge through the sticky issues engaged people face, I welcome advice and comments.

It's just that the bitter remarks about my immaturity and the inevitable doom of my marriage are getting old. "You have no clue what you're doing," and, "I know better," aren't helpful.

Considering I've never been married before, I don't mind being immature when it comes to the institution, though perhaps that's just the wrong word. I'm just not jaded.

It would be one thing if I were fresh out of college, looking to get married to prove I'm a grownup. But I'm not trying to pretend I'm something I'm not, I'm just going with what works and preparing for a lifetime that I know isn't going to be easy.

The thing that irks me about older people talking down to me is that I've always strived to get to that mature point where I think they might be. I've always looked forward to the future and to learning from them along the way. I grant them respect based on their experience and value their opinions.

Being the youngest made me want to rush to be old enough -- whatever glorious state that seemed to mean. Looking back on my life, I realize that I've always been drawn to older people, whether dating older men, or making connections with older women and men who teach and can be taught.

Maybe it's because I like music that was made before I was born. Maybe it's because I have older brothers. Or maybe it's because I just click with people, regardless of age.

I don't think I come off so immature. Maybe people see me that way because the criticizers are too mature. Maybe they need to relax a bit and realize that the mistakes I've made and am going to make are not done blindly.

Life is too short to constantly hear, "You'll learn." It's all about learning at one's own pace, and that's exactly the way I want it.

Guess I'm just too young to be bitter.

Laura Lewis is an adventurous 20-something who has loved, lost and doesn't mind sharing. Her column appears every other Thursday.