Peaks

Do you guys ever wake up and think what the hell happened? I don’t just mean after a weekend bender or  this year’s election, but like an overarching theme of what-the-fuck?

I turned 26 this year and I feel like the difference between what my body does now and what it did 3 years ago is striking. Honestly, I feel a little betrayed. Someone told me once that as soon as I turn 25 everything would change. My metabolism, my alcohol tolerance, my interests, and my skin texture. My skin texture?! That’s where I draw the line, I mean, honestly.

I went from always having my hair done to using my kitchen shears to trim my bangs. The dresses and heels were replaced with a Columbia Outlet fleece and high-rise leggings. I own one $60 bra that I wear everyday, and a bunch of free volunteer shirts from my last job. I legitimately need 10 hours of sleep per day, accompanied by 2 cups of coffee with non-dairy creamer, because even lactose is an enemy to me now.

At first this was a HUGE issue for me. I felt like I had peaked and that my world as I knew it was crashing down. I’m not the young, hot girl anymore (if I ever was), now I’m just the girl who has peanut-butter on her flannel.

I don’t venture outside my home on weekend evenings because I refuse to pay a cover, I wouldn’t dare spend $13 on a cocktail and my size 4 dresses fit me about as well as a sausage casing.

This shit used to get me down, hard. It still does from time to time, but my priorities have changed. I can’t look to the past and think about how great things were because really, every year has gotten better and better for me, even if I haven’t touched a curling iron in months. I feel more authentic to myself. I used to feel so lost because I didn’t feel like I had hobbies (unless you count puking and rallying as a hobby). But really I was just trying to do what I thought happy people did, instead of doing what actually makes me happy.

Now I do ridiculous at-home workouts where I kick and punch at nothing. I listen to comedy podcasts at work and laugh out loud to myself at my desk. I throw on 90’s Pop Radio in the kitchen and sing to Ja Rule while making vegan nachos. I get onstage with a bunch of random people and play pretend. I call my friends and leave them awkward voicemails and tell them how much I love them. I text my boyfriend pictures of dogs. I sit in my bed at 9:30 p.m. with the lights off and talk about myself on the internet.

Do I sometimes crave adventure and a break from the monotony of my 9-5? Sure. Do I sometimes want to flat-iron my 5 pounds of hair and put on some lipstick. You bet your ass I do. But comparison is the thief of joy, dear readers. So when you find yourself looking at Instagram of people vacationing in Europe, or even comparing your more domestic life for one that was filled with drop shots and sleepovers on friend’s couches. Quit that shit. Remember the good times for what they were, but focus on making these times your best. Your happiest. And doing whatever the fuck that is.

Now excuse me while I go Pinterest pictures of Bernese Mountain Dogs.

XOXO,

The Weekday Hangover