I figured I should stop eating spaghetti in the bathtub and start working out after Sloan referred to me as a "gentle giant" on Sunday. Some people may say that's cruel, but honestly, there's no denying it: I've ridden the but-I-just-gave-birth-so-stop-asking-if-we-should-go-on-a-walk-I-can't-hear-what-Kim-is-saying-on-Keeping-Up-With-the-Kardashians-wave far enough. Now I'm on the shore. The shore of normal physiological responsibility, which includes regular exercise and a reasonable diet...and sand I guess, if I'm going to follow through on this extended metaphor. Maybe I'll call it the sand of slow metabolism.
But really, whatever. Exercise? Whomp whomp. When I go to the doctor and he asks why I'm not in better health I'll just act like I don't get the concept of exercise and I'll just be generally oblivious like my mom was the time she went to Bible camp as a little girl with her friends, and the pastor said to come up to the front if you love Jesus, and mom loved Jesus so she walked up there and all of the adults started hugging her and crying and she realized she was the only kid up there but now it means she's saved so if the baptists are the right ones, she's got her boarding pass and she will so use it because when it comes to eternal salvation, you gotta do what you gotta do (her words, not mine [actually my words]).
But come on, my youth is gone...why exercise? I'm done, through, washed up. I am too damn old for those little yoga pants and a jogging bra. This is not a yogurt commercial, this is REAL LIFE, and in REAL LIFE people don't smile while they jog. How do I know I'm old? It just hit me the other day. I know I'm old because I think high schoolers wear stupid clothes "these days" and I sincerely dislike the sound of Nicki Minaj rapping. And Sloan is getting old too. While we were watching the Oklahoma game on Saturday, he said, "I used to always take my shirt off, but now I just look at those guys and think, 'Put your shirt on, moron.'" Getting older, indeed.
So that's where I find myself in this 25th year: too old to exercise, too pretty to change diapers, and too smart to start using drugs. So when I'm trying to decide if I should watch tv or exercise or do work and it's been a rough day and Ward is lying on the floor farting like it's 1999, I just remember that I have everything a person needs: food, shelter, food, more food, and food.