Apparently I'm Not 22 Anymore

Going through my drafts, I found this one from 2015, which just shows you how far behind I am in the whole, "recording my thoughts" phase of my life. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I had heard for years that one's metabolism would eventually decrease, but never really wanted to believe that it would happen to me.

Oh, but it did! Apparently I now have to "watch what I eat" and "not eat pretzels and a can of frosting for dinner." Who knew?

Then came the great ankle-destruction of 2013, and I've been having trouble getting back into a shape that doesn't make me feel like this:

Larry, Mike's dude-bro, was in town this weekend, and his presence led to the UNHEALTHIEST weekend of caloric intake that I think I've ever had. It was fairly intense:

Friday dinner: Chipotle

Saturday breakfast: Coney Island

Saturday lunch: Taco Bell

Saturday dinner: ALCOHOL

Sunday breakfast: McDonald's

Sunday lunch/dinner: Hungry Howie's

Sunday's meals were really just cures for the ridiculous hangover I drank myself into, and since I do that kind of drinking fewer than four times a year, I felt somewhat justified in eating nothing but grease.

And now, though I always knew it, I fully realize that I am no longer a college student with the ability to magically stuff everything under the sun down my gullet. Also, I think that I truly know the meaning of the term hangover.