So I turned 25. Yuck.
I used to think I would be married to Brian Littrell of the Backstreet Boys by the age of 21 and would have my first child by 23 because any older than that would be gross.
As I got older, my daydreaming continued but my dream ages steadily increased. "Oh ya, 25 is a good age to get married, ya, that's JUST as good as 21. It's also definitely still doable."
Well here I am, content with my life which is good but I am starting to see some definite signs of aging. My test of youth really came to me whilst I was on holiday with Mr. Bond in Paris. I say holiday, but if I had blinked, I would have missed the entire trip...and believe me I wish I had a second to blink/slumber.
The weeks prior to our two week break, Mr. Bond and I pondered over some activities we could do. Having both seen an add on the tube for Megabus - trips to Paris for £1 - we looked it up. Oh what a great idea! We can travel on the bus overnight so we can get a full day in Paris and our accommodation is covered! Oh and here's a fun adventure, let's just make it a day trip to save even more money!! Let's come back on the same bus THAT night. I can not express enough how big of a mistake this evolution of ideas was. As many of you are probably already thinking, yup we didn't get any sleep. Just as I was getting comfortable and slightly snoozing, the bus stops and we have to get off for border control. Then back on - get off for the ferry ride - stay on a boat for over an hour - get back on bus - adjust - then try to rest. So awful. After a long while, and many adjustments to my posture so now I look like a proud falcon perched on a trainer's leather arm guard, I drift into sleep. What feels like minutes later, I awake in the Sahara desert, oh wait... it's just the broken heating system on the bus. I felt this odd sensation and experienced something I never had before. A pool of sweat had collected on my neck/upper chest. How does this happen? This is not a crevice. That was how hot the bus was, sweat collected on flat surfaces, joining to other sweat to try to cool down.
Anyway we arrive, near death. Zombie-ing around Paris is not as much fun as one would think. However, we did find a cosy nook to slumber in for a while in the Louvre. That's socially acceptable, right?
Then we return, exhausted and hours early to catch our bus. The only problem is, we were told on the way TO Paris, that we did not have to check in while IN Paris to return home. So after waiting 3.5 hours in a bus station, we get turned away at the bus by the driver because we need a plastic tag on top of our actual boarding passes to say we have a soul or something. Needless to say, when we manage to get back on, there are no seats for Bond and I to sit together. Except 1. At the back. Squashed together. Above the heater. Beside another couple in a row of 5. At this point my emotions have been put in a bag, dropped from the Eiffel Tower, punched by the Mona Lisa, and have eaten way too much rich food. I am a dairy-dump of disaster. Bond sees my unbridled rage and tries his best to adjust his body so I am sitting next to a memory foam pillow, however it doesn't work. There is not even enough room to cross my legs.
When we managed to traipse back into our flat, we slept 7 hours. This is how I know I am old. This entire story shows age. I used to sleep for 2 hours a night during exams, then after they were done, smash some beers to celebrate. Now if I am awake 2 hours, my eyes hurt looking at a computer screen.
In case you didn't believe that I was getting older, I have compiled a list of pathetic tendencies that prove my near-death. You're welcome:
- deciding to start separating laundry - After Bond's white v-necks continue to get noticeably more gray with every laundry load, I have decided to separate. I have never before. My black pantyhose, tights, bras, and dresses will just have to steer clear.
- grey hairs - I used to have 2 maybe 3, so they were easy to pluck. Now if I plucked all my gray hairs out, I would only HAVE 2 or 3 normal hairs. My hair catches sunlight and blinds the children with its silver rays. Back to the hairdresser.
- mishearing book/movie titles and repeating them incorrectly in front of many people. I have REALLY wanted to read/watch Crown of Thorns...Crown of Games...Game of Crowns...Games of Throne Crowns for a while now.
- needing at least 8 hours of sleep but only managing to force my body to sleep 6 at most (as long as those 6 hours start between 10pm - 11pm, anything after that still leaves me exhausted all day). This bullet can be completely disregarded though if my sleeping will go passed 9am. Like clockwork, at 6am I get up to go pee, then can fall back asleep until 9 only. At which point, I lay in bed exhausted by can't even manage to close my eyes. Nothing will bring sleep to me. Well...almost nothing...
- this brings me to a show. The above point can be disregarded if there are any episodes of Blue Planet in the house. If I slap on some David Attenborough it doesn't matter if I have woken up from a 12 hour uninterrupted slumber, I can always go into a coma with his soothing man voice. This point was included because although it removes proof of my oldness based on sleeping patterns, it proves I am getting older by falling asleep to an episode of a tv show.
- getting drunk off of 1 glass of wine (I used to have to sneak away at parties to quickly drink in the bathroom so they didn't see me gag down my first few drinks fast and thus party harder) but now one glass is enough to get me to have me singing Cher at the top of my lungs. Only point of pride: my wallet is much fuller after a night out.
- having to pee 4 times before bed - WHY DOES MY BODY DO THIS?? Nothing comes out the third time!! Why even go a fourth?? But I can never talk my mind out of it - I might have to get up in the middle of the night to go!
- calculating how much water I have to drink in a day so those 4 pees at night won't burn coming out
- thoroughly enjoying crosswords. Not a single event gives me more contentedness.
I am sure there are more, but I think this is enough proof to convince you I am as old as dirt. Now, it is getting late (8:40 pm) I must be off to get ready for bed.
