Tick-tock Tick-tock

I believe that I am lucky in that I don't look my age. I thank my mom and dad for that. I like to believe I don't look a day over 25, which means I can shave a good 2 years off when I tell people my age 20 years from now (when those types of things are important). I also see my late-blooming in life as a blessing in disguise. I matured later than most people, I started drinking and partying later than most people, I have found my career niche later than most people, and as a result, I think that has kept me young at heart. But, damn, you can't fight biology and the ticking clock. No, I'm not talking about THE ticking clock. Hell, I don't even think I'm ready to adopt a puppy yet. Just keep reading.

I went dancing with some friends last night. Two friends were 26-27 years old, and the other three are 23-24 years old. The music was great - a mix of old school hip hop, some dancehall/reggae, some salsa, which means I was making full use of my legs, thighs, butt and muscles I haven't exercised in a long goddamn time. (My daily activities consist of sitting in class, sitting at the library and sitting at a laptop). I only had one drink because I wanted to focus all my attention on getting my groove on. The dancing started at about 1030pm and by 12am, I kept looking at my watch and calculating if I could make it home by 1am to take a hot shower, then immerse myself in a tub of ice. I had to fake-grin it the whole night to hide the tears streaming down my face. When I was "resting" every half-hour, my friends looked at me with pity in their eyes. I looked around: there are no other girls sitting down! I don't understand?! It was only 2 months ago I was dancing almost everyday for a dance performance class. What has happened?! I'll tell you what. I'm old, people. I can't fight my body's aging process. No matter how many breathing exercises I do to fight the asthma, how many creams and lotions I use to fight the wrinkles, how many sit-ups and push-ups I do to stay in shape, that won't change what's happening internally. The fucking clock won't stop, and no matter how good I think I look for my age, it won't change how old I feel.

Ok, the valium is kicking in now and the ace bandages are beginning to cut off my circulation. Talk amongst yourselves.