One thing about aging (and no, I'm not that old, even though sometimes I feel kinda old): my body and my mind usually feel just like they did when I was in my 20s. But, you feed my body crap and it will feel like the garbage dump it is. Case in point: my husband is out of town. So last night I indulged in some terrible, terrible TV/movies, as well as some sparkly wine (awesome stuff from a winery up the street) and nachos.
I'm not sure whether it was the fact that I rarely drink or the fact that I don't often eat junk food or the fact that I lifted weights yesterday afternoon for the first time in a long time before skating with my kids (also, first time since high school!). But holy mother of Maug, I wanted to die when I woke up.
There was no hangover-like headache, thank goodness. So I'm pretty sure it was a combination of weight lifting and nachos. Nonetheless, my husband wasn't here to make fun of me. Since I love him and miss him (he's on a guys' vacation in San Diego this weekend), here's our back and forth so I can pretend someone's actually around to make fun of me, other than my kids, who would get in trouble:
Me: "Oh, God, why the hell did I eat that many nachos? And why did I lift weights? Why?"
Him: "No kidding. You can't even tell. Just do what I do and eat nachos all the time. You develop a tolerance. And here's a secret: if you don't lift weights, it won't hurt."
Me: "You're an ass. If my arms didn't ache so much I'd go over there and smack that stupid grin off your face."
Him: "Ooooh, oooh, you mean this one? The one I'm making fun of you with? That one?"
Me: "I despise you."
Him: "I love you, too."
Fin
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