item #1: adult acne
It's one of those things they didn't tell you about when you were a kid, and, if they did, you didn't believe them. My thirties have blessed me with a migrating patch of cloggy blackheads and the occasional gigantor zit that sets up camp on my forehead - like on the wedding day - or on my cheek - like right now. Sure, adult acne isn't as awful as most other adult concerns they didn't tell you about - war, grief, pantyhose - but it sure is irritating.
Another thing nobody warns you about is the side effects of a flip flops addiction. See, my tootsies simply cannot handle the exposure on these cold weather, rainy days; yet every single alternate choice in my tiny closet makes me feel like I'm attached to cement blocks. So far, the only covered shoes that I can really tolerate have turned out to be Crocs, which, frankly, horrifies me. There was a time that I could have handled the Crocs, but that all ended when I took down my Jim Morrison posters. And, I confess, it gets worse: this morning, I pulled on a pair of black socks before slipping my feet into the Crocs...and then...I went to work. This cannot continue!
You mean grown ups have to take care of this for themselves? I'm deep into this routine of stocking the cupboards and fridge full of yummy, healthy food, and then going out to eat. For some reason, hours of prep time resulting in a mediocre bowl of vegetable mush simply does not seem to inspire further experimentation in the kitchen. The husband, sweetie that he is, always says it's alright because I'm in school right now...but those days are numbered. Sigh. I wonder, how long does one last on freezer food, smoothies and beer?
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