Tuesday, February 12, 2013
This post brought to you by old age
I'm fighting massive mutant desk piles of paper today so here's some words of wisdom about aging gracefully. (This is a voicemail message from Psycho Bambi on the event of her first serious attempt to exercise after working full time and going to school for years.)
"A) My hair is like a solid. It's like a greasy, matted, nasty, sweaty solid. Gross, right? I could fucking have a bird living there and you wouldn't even know it.
B) I just took my first dance class in well over a year. Everyone around me looks like a fetus that has one of those effortlessly healthy, young, skinny bodies. Yeah. I'm not in that phase of my life any more. I realize I'm thin by most people's standards, but compared to the body I'm used to having and taking for granted... [she used to be a professional dancer before she went back to school]...yeah, not any more.
I'm that wheezy, sweaty, red-faced person struggling in the back row. That's me! Hahahahaha!
I'm trying to use the word 'humbling' instead of 'humiliating' to classify this experience so I won't go home and cry. As my reward for going through that 'humbling' experience, tomorrow is a Work Day. Fucking work and fucking misery. No, not the kind where I get paid fifty-million dollars an hour. No, it's the kind where I'm slaving away, fucking finishing my paper at [redacted] years of age. Wheeeeeeee!"
My voicemail response began with "Fetuses!" and ended with me laughing hysterically for three minutes. We may be winging our way out of our thirties, but at least we're witty about it.
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