Friends have always teased me, calling me old, because I’m usually the logical and responsible one. Afraid of risk and stuck in my routine. And I get cranky when my routine is disrupted. I just had my 37th birthday (I refuse to say “celebrated” because I had it under duress), so by most people’s standards, I’m NOT, in fact: OLD. I go to concerts (I’ve seen artsits like Tim McGraw & Faith Hill to Dokken, and all sorts of wild/tame acts in between). I attempt ice skating (with hockey skates mind you). I giggle at potty humor just like a five year-old. Seriously though, I’m not trying to convince you.
But today it happened. Immediately upon finishing a slice of cake, my tummy started to hurt. Too much sugary richness at once. OMIGOD. It’s happened! I have officially turned old. I knew things were bad when I started feeling effects of a hangover before I had my third drink, but this? RIIII-DIC-U-LOUSSSSS!
Next thing you know, I’ll be hitting the sack before the sun goes down. Oh wait…..