Gettin old. Part two.

Another post about getting old.

I might be obsessing a bit. I know that “40 is the new 20” (HEAVY on those quotation marks) but as I head into my 35th year, it sure doesn’t feel like it. There are all kinds of things that I could do when I was in my twenties that my body isn’t having now.

1)     Drinking cheap liquor.  I used to be able to chug any ol’ swill the bartender would throw at me. And not get hung-over. I mean, it could have been in a jug with XXXX marked on it and I could drink it and be fine. I would even be fine the next day.  And ya’ll, when I partied, I used to get duh-runk.  Not drunk, duh-runk.   Now?  Nope. One, I can’t make it past tipsy anymore. Two, the last time I tried to do cheap stuff I stated to get hung-over while drinking it.  This wasn’t after a few drinks, folks.  I was on drink one with this crap and I was seriously getting ill.  (I won’t name the brand but it rhymes with Bonarch.) Or the time I went to someone’s house and they served Alco-pop in wine form, and I drank it to be polite. (Also because the only person there I liked was the host, so I had to drink something.)  I drank two glasses of that mess. In my twenties, I would have been able to drink it and it would have been all good. But since I was thirty-three at the time, I got a headache so bad I was convinced that I had all of a sudden developed a brain tumor.

This. I’m sure some of the bars I went to served this. And I drank it.

2.     Not sleeping.  Confession:  Sleeping is one of my favorite pastimes, followed closely by napping and dozing.  But when I was in my twenties (early twenties—I was married with two kids by the time I was 25) I could go out, party, sleep for a couple of hours, and then go to work. Once I went home, showered, and then went straight to work.   Now?? Ain’t happenin, Jack.   If I get six hours of sleep, I can function—barely.  Four hours of sleep and my brain begins liquefaction and starts to trickle out of my ear.

3.     Losing weight.  No lie, when I was 22 I stopped eating red meat for a while and lost 27 pounds.  That was it, I just stopped eating one thing.  I don’t want to give the wrong impression here—I wasn’t eating any healthier.  I still ate Popeye’s chicken, McDonald’s fries, Ivar’s fish and chips, Baskin Robbins’ ice cream—I ate crap, is what I’m saying.  Exercise? Not even.  These days, if I want to lose five pounds I have to give up anything delicious.  Diet food can be good, or even tasty, but let’s face it—it is never delicious.   I have to pretend like I don’t hate exercise.  And I have to do these things for weeks. And if I stop for a couple of days, I gain it all back plus five. 

4.     Flexibility.  When I was 26, I took up yoga for a few months.  I actually got pretty flexible within that amount of time. I was no contortionist, but I could place both my hands flat on the ground behind my feet.   But a few weeks ago, I started having to stretch because of that herald of aging:  back pain.  Every single time I do the stretches, I feel like the Tin Woman trying to touch her toes. Every. Single. Time.

It’s okay though. Because one thing I can do now, I couldn’t do then—not care what other people think about me and what I do or what I have. (Well, it’s easy for me not to care about what I have. Thanks to Kid Sensation and the Destroyer, I can’t have anything nice. NOTHING.)

I also have Spanx. Seriously, you guys. I love Spanx.


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