What's My Age Again?

Oh that’s right; it’s twenty four and a half. Almost exactly.

So here’s my next question: WHY is my body suddenly behaving like it’s been walking around for twice that long? Act your age, body.

Exhibit A: Premature heartburn

Yesterday I purchased a very large, very expensive box of Prilosec OTC. I’m still not sure what I’ve done in life to deserve this, apart from maybe loving hot sauce too much. I am sure that I can’t consume a coke, a bowl of ramen noodles, or even a saltine cracker without feeling like I just chugged a bottle of paint thinner.

Exhibit B: Pain in the...shoulder

A couple months ago, I worked out with Tony Horton for five days in a row. (No, it wasn’t P90X, just regular old Power 90. I am not operating under the delusion that I am or ever will be in good enough shape to tackle anything that requires me to do a pull up.) I was feeling good, drinking lots of water, and thinking that this might be the year that I finally get it together and get in shape. So I worked out for five days, like I said, and then rested on the sixth day, just like it says in the P90-No-X instruction manual.

Since the sixth day happened to be the Saturday after Cinco de Mayo, I attended a party. I pinned the tail on the donkey, whacked a piñata without a blindfold (in an effort to avoid hitting Leah in the face), and allowed my friends to toss colorful rings at an inflatable parrot I happened to be wearing on my head. (Why are there no pictures of this on Facebook, you ask? Well...a few of us may have gone a little too far in our efforts to pay homage to the Mexican culture by way of our attire...and therefore thought it best that we not spread those pictures of my sister wearing a sombrero and a mustache made of real human hair all over the internet, in case anyone should see them and be mortally offended. Things might have been different if Hailey hadn’t been out of town, because then we could have had an actual Latina there to give us the necessary street cred, but she claims it couldn’t be avoided, so what are you gonna do.) It was awesome – that is, until the end of the night, when I started to experience a dull pain in my right shoulder. I shrugged it off at first, but as the night went on it just seemed to be getting worse. I decided I’d had it around 11:30pm, so I drove to the nearest 24-hour Walgreens and picked up a heating pad and a box of Icy Hot patches.

Sunday, I sat on my couch all day and cried to Sarah every time I accidentally moved. She spoon-fed me painkillers and changed out the patch on my shoulder every few hours. (Gary missed out on this joyous occasion because he was in Houston sweet-talking some oil companies into considering him for a job.)

Monday morning I went to the doctor. He gave me a cortisone shot and about forty prescriptions. I remember thinking to myself, “Ok, I’ll take these every day and then be back to the workout routine in a week or two.”

Ohhh, two-months-ago-me, you have soooo much to learn. You’ll understand when you’re a little older and you STILL haven’t worked out again because you have yet to fully regain the use of your shoulder. I’d also be willing to bet that, when you’re older, you’ll be seriously considering a brain transplant into a new body who’ll appreciate you, because you’d really like to hit at least 30 before you break a hip.