Shooooooot her!

It's always about this time of year, when I just start eating too much, that I panic and consider joining the gym or some other nonsense. Except this year, holy shit, I'm 25! That's more than a quarter of my life. It could be only half my life. I've spent the last 10 years doing and eating whatever I want and not changing in any meaningful way. (I can't pinpoint the exact year in which I stopped "growing" and gaining weight, but I'm sure it was somewhere around 15 or 16 years of age.) So, the year that it stops working that way will be a scary one. Mostly because I never cared enough about my weight to even buy a scale. I've been fairly comfortable about it. I'm willing to admit that I'm not perfect, but I think I'm doing okay most of the time. I know someone will probably read this and want to stab me in the face. I know it's not easy for a lot of people. I have family members that struggle with weight problems. I've honestly never really had to worry about it much. And I've taken advantage of that. That said, perhaps after this move, if I am actually spending less per month on rent/utilities, I'll actually go back to the gym and start running/working out. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps!

(This post is inspired by the scrumptious pumpkin cake with cream cheese frosting sitting in our refrigerator. Thank you, thank you very much.)