I’ve been 25 for four whole weeks now, without once shaving off all my hair (just the half that’s already shaved, thank you), or buying a sports car, or–more realistically–buying out the local Whole Foods of all the chocolate and chocolate-related foodstuffs and eating them guiltily in a corner while Atreyu looks at me thinking, maybe if she eats ten percent of her body weight, it will kill her and I will be able to eat her AND the chocolate.
I think I’m handling it pretty well. Also I just realized what a run-on sentence that is and it makes me happy. I’m TWENTY-FIVE. I DO WHAT I WANT. #badass #hashtaghashtag
Anyway, I thought I’d share with my readers the ten most important things I’ve learned about life, me, or the universe, in my twenty-five years.
10. Listicles are here to stay.
When did listicles–or “list articles” as adults or people who don’t like to rhyme things with “testicles” call them–become the standard? I mean, they are everywhere. They’re on Buzzfeed. They’re on Huffington Post. They’re on Gawker. They’re ON MY GODDAMNED BLOG. Fuck me, I’m writing a listicle. I need a job.
9. The older you get, the less people give a shit about your birthday.
I LOVE birthdays, mostly because I love cake and/or pizza and/or goodie bags. But you stop getting the last ones when you’re like, twelve, and people are less likely to bake you a cake when you’re the ripe old age of 25. Thankfully, I’m blessed with having Batman as a best friend and Batman made me a cake to end all cakes. OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. I thought that at at that moment I could develop type 2 diabetes and gain thirty pounds in one sitting and it would all be worth it because this cake was so decadent and perfect and SO MUCH LOVE WENT INTO IT. Love makes you fat, is what I’m saying.
8. Get your ass outside and fucking enjoy that shit.
When I was growing up, my parents had rules about electronics. We had a two-hour limit of electronics per day, and we could only be on the computer/N64/TV for an hour at a time. Then we had to spend an hour outside “being active.”
I put the “being active” in quotations because, hot damn, I was a lazy child. I would go outside with a book and sit on a swing and read for an hour, because that counted as being outside and “active.” Or I’d ride an ATV around for an hour, because nothing says “exercise” like moving your wrists slightly to the left or right to steer.
But this summer, I promised myself I’d go outside more often and enjoy how gorgeous Colorado is. So I ran outside four days a week, and I went for long walks, and recently I’ve gotten into hiking again. (Did you know hiking with just your dog and no one else is kind of nice? Did you know that hiking with your significant other and your dog is nice because one of those two creatures will respond to you when you start talking about what it would be like to build a giant treehouse?) Colorado stays nice and warm basically forever. Even when it’s cold, it’s not like the frostbitten-ball cold of the east coast. I mean, last year we had like two weeks of -10 degree weather. I almost turned atreyu into a blanket fort, a la star wars.
7. Don’t worry too much about other people’s feelings.
Calm down, I’m not saying I’ve learned to be an asshole (Some might say I already was one, but I like to think I’m a nice person), but I have learned that setting boundaries isn’t enough for me. I’d set boundaries to keep myself from unhealthy situations, but then whenever presented with that situation, I’d feel super bad about sticking to my boundaries. Like, oh, this person who stole my car has been arrested. I should tell the Court they aren’t that bad of a person because I don’t want them to go to jail and be unhappy…
Can you see how, maybe, my social anxiety just wants to be liked by everyone? I mean. I don’t like everyone, and everyone shouldn’t like me. But I even want my enemies to like me–if I had enemies, anyway–and so I try my hardest to be nice even to people who don’t necessarily deserve it.
So my new rule, when dealing with people whom I’ve set up boundaries, is: If I can only say nice things, don’t say anything at all. But also don’t be a jackass either. Because that’s unnecessary and you’re a better person than that. Instead, just watch some TV and eat chocolate and reward yourself for not taking the bait. And also stop feeling guilty for not responding. You aren’t doing anything wrong.
6. I am a human garbage disposal.
Deep in my heart of hearts, I think I always knew this. Coming to terms with it recently has allowed me to both focus more on enjoying the act of devouring everything in sight and on exercising so I can keep shoving all of the foods into my face.
Case in point: a couple of weeks ago, I went out to dinner with Batman after I taught a yoga class. I hadn’t eaten since about 1 p.m., and it was now 8:30. We went to this pizza place, where we both ordered a side salad and then we split a medium (11 inch, six slice) pizza. And by “split” I mean Batman ate one piece and I ate the other five. And then a donut. And then I went home and finished my chipotle chips leftover from the night before. And then I had a fun size snickers bar (which isn’t really fun sized at all, if you think about it. It’s more like a dumb, shitty-sized snickers.).
To be fair, I had gone on a 3.5 mile run that morning and had only really eaten, like, toast and a smoothie and some chips and hummus and stuff, so, like, I guess it’s okay.
Stay tuned for part 2 next week!
Also, I’ve recently joined Blogging for Books, so be on the lookout for some reviews coming soon!