Love don’t live here anymore…


January 30, 2012 by Kim

3 days into my 34th year of life and the downward spiral has begun

I thought that I might be safe for another year or two… but, alas, I was mistaken

Foolish girl… foolish, foolish girl.

Today I returned to work, following my FridaySaturdaySunday Birthday celebration-marathon

as usual, too much awake time… not enough asleep time

Someday I will learn that my rapidly-aging-body needs to rest…  But resting is boring… and that’s what they make energy drinks for, right?

and it doesn’t help that a majority of my coworkers are older than me… so, when I do complain about being “aged” they usually respond by throwing things at me… sharp things…. sharp heavy things… sharp heavy things that somehow create NO NOISE as they make impact with my flinching torso…

they’ll declare, angrily, that I don’t know what old is…. scream out their year of birth… flex and throw someone who is even younger than me down the stairs….   With this little war cry/act of work place violence, I become blinded… blinded to the reality that is, my age

My body is not digging this… not at all

My 34-year-old body wants me to sit on an ergonomically correct  chair, at work…. relax on a sleep number bed, while watching reruns of Murder, She Wrote… knit fuzzy sweaters for future grandchildren… drink prune juice…. utilize a walker… decipher cross word puzzles… and possibly use a plastic chair in the shower…

Thank goodness they make the ” love seat” edition… so I’ll have someplace to put my vodka and cranberry…

What, rapidly-aging-body?

Negative on the vodka and cranberries?

Are you freaking KIDDING me???  It’s  good thing, rapidly-aging body, that elderly abuse is frowned upon…

because you’re leaning towards an ass whooping.


If it seems like there is some animosity between my body and me…. there is.

Today rapidly-aging-body decided it wanted to play dirty and sucker-punched me

and it all started over a little bit of  low-fat milk

a tiny bit… barely enough to saturate the underbellies of my Frosted Mini Wheats…

You see, these sparkly little squares of shredded wheat are my current obsession

I can not get enough of them.

I could continuously munch on bowl after bowl after bowl… and my appetite, for them, would not be satisfied…

I’m kind of like a vampire…

a vampire of the breakfast cereal variety…

So, I happily demolished my Frosted Mini Wheats… tipped the little Tupperware bowl up to my mouth and finished off the milk.

Life was good…

It was only 8 AM and all of a sudden 4 PM wasn’t looking so far away…

as usual, I popped a piece of gun into my mouth… to assist in the removal of any tiny wheat shards that had found themselves lodged in between my teeth…

Content, I settled back into my daily work routine

30 minutes later, I noticed a dull ache deep within my stomach… I tried to ignore it and continued working…

The pain steadily got more persistent and as I stood to make my way to the community printer, I was fully consumed by what could almost be likened to childbirth… drug-free childbirth.   I managed to arrive at the printer…body hunched over into a 90 degree angle.  Standing up straight was completely impossible.  As I would try to raise my shoulders higher, I could only feel what would simply be described as “every damned thing contained inside the middle of my body, ripping to shreds…”

“…in slow motion”

“…while on fire”

“…and covered with fire-resistant fleas”

I kept my printer trips to the minimum, following that…

I’m not stranger to the aches and pains that are associated to being of the female persuasion

I try not to be a wimp…

but this shit hurt

I considered, briefly, that I may very well be on Death’s back doorstep… and then realized how truly horrendous it would be,  to have to take my final breath, enclosed within the unforgiving walls of my cube.

I had to overcome this…

The next 3 hours consisted of me practicing lamaze breathing, with my forehead pressed against the space bar occupying my keyboard

breath in, breath out, mutter every cuss word known to all mankind, breath in, breath out, slightly hallucinate that there’s a bright glowing light entering my cubicle, breathe in, breath out

17 minutes into Pain-fest 2012… I know exactly what the cause for my discomfort was…

Good and wholesome, my ass!!!

Screw you, milk…. Screw you and the carton you rode in on!!!

I have never had milk issues before…. I could drink jugs upon jugs of the stuff

I loved milk.

but, apparently milk doesn’t love me anymore…

Maybe milk found somebody else…

Or maybe we just grew apart…

Oh, yeah… that’s right… I’m growing into an aging-milk rejecting-loser


just awesome


4 thoughts on “Love don’t live here anymore…

  1. Sarchasm2 says:

    All downhill from here. Just the speed picks up 🙂

  2. A.E. says:

    Soy milk is actually really good. But still, hope the milk issues pass.

  3. The Hook says:

    I feel your pain…

  4. I like the way you play with your words to put this piece together. I enjoyed reading this post, in fact I feel your pain. I do feel old at 26 years old too.

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