Tuesday, February 9, 2010


The title is me fighting this whole aging thing here. Next month is my super-awesome special birthday. You know, the one where you turn the age that's the same as the date? Which would be great if my birthday wasn't March 27th. I'm going to be freaking 27. It sounds dangerously close to 30. Think about that for a minute. I mean I barely feel like I can call myself a "20-something" anymore. It's like I'm moving into this new grouping, the "nearly 30 set" or something. My one friend is declaring herself 21 again this year. I wouldn't mind just being 26 again at this point.

I'm seeing the nearly-30 problems begin, namely the slowing metabolism and inability to go through live on astoundingly small amounts of sleep. Everyone says to my school full-time + work full-time + parenting in the amount of time left that I'm "young and can handle it". Sure, I can handle 3 hours of sleep at best all effing week long. Right. I'm not young now. I'm "nearly 30". Well I will be in a month and a half. A night of some fun and drinking has me thinking about the pointless calories I just ingested and severely lacking in energy the entire next day instead of just into the early afternoon, and I didn't even drink that much. (Yes on very rare occasions I do get out a bit.) I may or may not have walked into McDonald's, declared to the fine people in attendance with me that I did not want any of the lovely food but two juice boxes sounded just delightful. And that may not have been in those exact words. But those two juice boxes were delicious.