A sign you're getting old...
After a very clean couple of months of eating, I totally ate a ton o' crap this past week. It wasn't intentional. I had my cousin visiting for a few days (who's my age and pretty much the male version of myself), and what did we do while we were talking up a storm, catching up, and philosophizing about life? We ate whatever was around. And I didn't hit the gym at all. Then he left, and Superbowl Sunday arrived. And what did I do? I ate some more. And I now I feel like I'm in the middle of a giant ball of brain fog trying to find my way out. I feel totally lethargic, and I'm thinking a mini-detox is in order this week to make up for the past few days of gluttony (which used to be my most favorite deadly sin... yeah, not anymore).
Gone are the days when I could eat whatever I wanted and not see it on my ass. Gone are the days when I could be in class all day, work two part-time jobs, hit the clubs at midnight, drink, head to a greasy diner for breakfast at 4 a.m., sleep for three hours, and get up the next day only to do it all over again. If I tried that now I'd be hospitalized.
When did I get old?
I'm really feeling my age this year. Okay, so I'm in my thirties, which I know isn't old relatively speaking, but I sure as HELL don't feel nineteen anymore.
Do you ever feel your age?
Posted by Jennifer Hillier on Monday, February 07, 2011
Labels: Jennifer Hillier, The Serial Killer Files, the writer's life, this has nothing to do with writing but who cares?