I’m 28 years old.
I’m not here to complain that I’m old, but I am here to complain about the natural, unpreventable truth that with age comes some serious physical change.
I was a chunky kid with a mullet who turned into a woman about 20 years into life that didn’t have to worry about physical anything. I could eat like a man, never work out, and still wear a size 2. I never needed more than 5 hours of sleep a night, could do a keg stand with the best of them, and if I ever felt bloated, I’d just skip a meal one day and be back to normal.
And then comes this cruel joke known as “The Late Twenties”.
Over the last year, my metabolism has decided to take a vacation—maybe even indefinitely. I moved up north with my hubs, so the year-long arctic winters don’t help with the whole scope of changes, either. Now, I’m ten pounds heavier, I’m wasted after one Yuengling Light, and I have to use grown up Olay brand firming cream for more than just my occasional pesky cellulite pop ups. And forget spray-tans to appear svelte—that stuff just makes acne and weird ailments materialize on the skin now… “What the hell—is that a pimple on my kneecap?”
Ten pounds doesn’t sound like a lot to you? I’m 5’2”—on a GOOD day. Even three pounds feels like twenty on me. Yes, I’m aware there are other people that have it way worse, but I’m complaining about my own woes today. #shortpeopleprobs
So after I watch 90’s teen movies and eat the last block of cheese and pack of popcorn in the house, I decide I have to change my lifestyle habits. This is tough. I’m prideful…I want to be able to say that I can do whatever I want and embrace myself as I am.
We all know that’s a lie. It’s not happening. I don’t hate myself, but my vanity is still important to me, so if that means I have to chug down poop green drinks and barely survive a Jillian Michaels workout video, I WILL DO IT!
We try to be positive about the idea of a healthy lifestyle, but for now, I’m gonna say out loud what we all secretly feel about it: HEALTHY SHIT SUCKS! Oh yeah, I would totally rather have this spinach smoothie than that slice of extra cheese pizza. Oh sure, I would absolutely love to go to the gym for an hour instead of taking a nap. LIES! You know it, just admit it to yourself, and then we can go back to pretending like we really enjoy gnawing on this acai berry root.
I try to start eating healthy and even that screws me. More fruit equals less teeth enamel so now I gotta start using the infomercial elderly people toothpaste. I try to start working out like a beast and that’s a total mindf*** because not only can I not walk for three days after, but the scale doesn’t go down—it goes up as the semblance of muscle that I’ve never had in my life begins to appear.
And man, the whole health kick really turns you into a crazy person, doesn’t it? Suddenly, you’re screaming at the tv, “NO, Jillian Michaels, I CAN’T do just one more set—I CAN’T FEEL MY LEGS ANYMORE!” and then, the juicer gets it, “THIS FISH OIL AND RHUBARB SMELLS LIKE ASS!”
Sacrifice is a hard thing.
However, I’ll admit, it is working.
But I do—and always will—draw the line at sacrificing coffee, vodka, and pizza.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a beet-kale smoothie and Hip-Hop Abs.