Tired of Being an Adult

This morning I looked at myself in the mirror, fully naked before the shower, and contemplated my midsection. My feminine figure is barely recognizable anymore, what with all the extra flab hanging off the sides. I have grown a cubicle gut. And cubicle love handles. And saggy cubicle boobs. Complete with a round face and the beginnings of a double chin.

I made it all the way through college and grad school drinking beer (like a champ) and eating pizza with a flat belly, but the desk job has killed my body. I sit down all day every day; staring at the computer, pretending to work, hunched over and bored. I used to be hot. Now I have high cholesterol. And heartburn. And a bad neck. And worsening vision. And a real job and health care and a 401(k) and “success.”

I’m 28, and already I’m tired of being an adult.

Remember playing outside? Kickball and four-square and jumping rope and flashlight tag… I want to go there again. Remember when Monday wasn’t a four letter word?

There’s got to be a way to get back there. I just have to finish these reports first…