This has been a bad week for my youth. I’m only 26, but in the last year or so there are definitely moments when I’ve thought “Absolutely not, I am too old for that…stuff.” A LOT of them happened this week.
I’ve been cleaning the basement and getting ready to move. I have a tendency to never throw anything away, and so I have clothes from literally every size I’ve been for the past six or so years. I have been A LOT of sizes, just fyi.
So I was sorting through them, and found myself going, “Nope, never again,” to things. And not just because they’re an absurd size that happy I-have-two-hours-every-day-to-exercise-and-I-hardly-ever-drink-and-eat-a-lot-of-broccoli! grad student me was and post-childbearing is-it-five-o’clock-yet? me will never, ever be again no matter what. But because grad-student me looked pretty ironically hot in the short plaid skirt and screw-me boots. Post-childbearing me (who still loves the boots, just with jeans or a tasteful skirt) would look ridiculous.
So there’s that.
I got super excited over organizing my seasonal decorations.
Yup. Just read that sentence. Literally every word is a cat sweatshirt and perm waiting to happen.
I’ve started using philosophy skin care products, and I realized that they actually work. As in, a wrinkle reducer ACTUALLY REDUCED WRINKLES on my skin.
I bought shorts. I always swore that only ugly Americans wore shorts, and there is no reason you can’t try just a little bit harder and wear a cute skirt or capris or something. But you know what? I’m tired. It’s hot, I’m tired, and, okay, they’re actually pretty cute.
And last night, I discovered that no matter how bad the day has been, how nicely the kids sleep, or how tasty it is, I can. not. do long island iced teas anymore. Oof.