Thirty-three

I'll post an update about writing and appearances soon. I actually have some pretty big news, but today I feel like talking about my incessant bitchiness over the last few days.

My energy has been low the last few weeks, so I've decided to adjust my diet to see if it helps. I'm reducing sugar (Stevia is taking some getting used to, let me tell you), caffeine, and  milk because they don't seem to work well for my body anymore. Also, I'm drinking apple cider vinegar--which tastes like sweat and whey and apples altogether while smelling almost exactly like asparagus pee--to balance out my pH levels. I'm even beginning to take vitamins again.

Here's the thing: this transition is putting me in a seriously bad mood. Poor husband, poor friends, poor dog, poor baristas, poor co-workers... I realize this will only last a few days, but in the meantime, I've been searching for ways to cope. One way is looking for ridiculously cute animal pictures online. This makes me smile between snarls. I've also found that writing something creative helps though I'm a little stuck right now (more on this later). Cooking works okay, as does exercising, but these fixes are temporary. I run two miles, and feel great, then I return and find a wrapper next to the trash or a piece of dirty clothing tossed, not in the hamper, but right next to it--stuff I ordinarily would laugh off and tease my husband about--and I lose my shit. Lucky for me, I have an awesome husband who responds by laughing me off and telling me to go look at a picture of a cute puppy, or a bunny that looks like it's clapping.

Yeah, well... It works. Seriously. The Cute Overload site is pretty hard to visit without smiling. And, yes, I've been there often these last three days.

So why the detox? Mid-life crisis? Bad writing week? Too many micheladas? Yeah, maybe all that.

I'm turning thirty-three on August 16th, and it's unreal. I'm not concerned about getting older as much as I'm concerned that I'm losing tolerance to some of my bad habits (happy hours lasting longer than an hour; 5 sugars in a coffee... yeah... I knew that would have to stop eventually; not stretching before a workout: see joint injuries that have plagued me the last year from trying to go too far in yoga). It sucks feeling a little more fragile, a little less resilient than I was, physically, in my twenties. But, I have to say, I'm not freaking out about getting older so much as I'm awkwardly trying to modify my lifestyle. Emphasis on the awkwardly.

Along with my puppy photos, I will say that I find consolation regarding my age in the equilibrium I've found as an adult. Mentally, I'm good. Better than good (this is assuming my sugar-deprived bitchiness will soon subside), and every year I feel a little more comfortable in my own skin. This is a thing that didn't come easily to me, not even as a child, and I'm so grateful for the ability to self-accept and move forward.

This last year went by, and I'm reminded that time alone is enough to shake me up. It's sneaky, the way it moves around and through us; so, of course, I'm writing a short story that examines this idea. Let me tell you, it's a tough topic to examine through fiction, but I'll get somewhere eventually.... Well, we'll see...  

Have a beautiful week, everyone; hopefully by next weekend I'll be less reliant on my cute animal pictures (but it really works, I'm telling you, keep this information in your back pocket), I'll have figured this story out, and my newly thirty-three year old body will be a little less reliant on sugar. Here's to hoping.