Strangers, Pants, and Sober Texts

Day 1: December 12, 2013

Go to the gym, get a weird look from a stranger in the dressing room, and give her a weird look right back! Because, hey! She’s rude.

Get on the scale, confirm that Thanksgiving was full of bad choices, get off scale, look in the mirror.

Your pants are on backwards. Yes, now that you think about it, your pants do feel a bit uncomfortable this morning.

Translation: Twenty-five is learning to interpret the weird looks strangers are giving you. Don’t make a weird face out of spite; just say thank you and go fix your pants.


Day 2: December 13, 2013

Go to a party. Drink nothing but ice water because you are out of shape and plan to run a five miler in the morning and, for some reason, hydration feels like the answer to your lack of training.

Go home, stay in your parked car in front of your building, sober-texting your big sister about life and all its struggles. Keep your head down so your favorite restaurant valets (sarcasm) don’t see your tears.

Keep texting about life until T.I. and Rihanna’s “Live Your Life” comes on the radio and you’re forced to fully take in the scene and your ridiculousness. Get out of your car and go inside to your heated blanket.

Translation: Twenty-five is being able to recognize the potential for laughter. You may not think it’s funny right now, but tomorrow you’ll probably realize that sometimes, you’re kind of a mess, and it’s kind of funny in an unfortunate way. You know…if you really think about it. Just laugh; it’s fine.


Day 3: December 14, 2013

Get up, put on pants (the correct way), and hydrate (because that still feels right).

Run five, hilly miles in the snow with a bunch of other fools (most of whom are wearing kilts). You’ll almost die because you’ll think you’re almost finished and amp up your speed only to notice the “Mile 3” marker. You’re not even close! Really, you should have trained.

But suck it up, because at the end you’ll get coffee, wine, and soup. Plus one of your favorite people will volunteer to make you breakfast and let you teach her how to make books.

Translation: Twenty-five is running when you haven’t trained. Always run the race; it’s always worth the risk.


Writer’s Note: This post is part of a larger series called “Learning Twenty-Five.”