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So, at 36, everyone's into fitness. My Instagram feed is filled with people doing yoga poses on mountain tops, and I'm over here winded after climbing a flight of stairs. They say life begins at 30, but I'm pretty sure they meant life begins at 30 minutes on the treadmill. And don't even get me started on the latest fitness trends. CrossFit? It sounds like a workout for people who want to become human pretzels. And what's up with those protein shakes? I tried one, and it tasted like a melted tire. Give me a pizza any day; that's my kind of workout – lifting a slice to my mouth.
And can we talk about workout clothes? Why are yoga pants more expensive than a three-course meal? I don't want to break the bank just to look like I might work out someday. I'll stick to my worn-out sweatpants, thank you very much.
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You know, they say age is just a number, and at 36, I'm starting to feel it. People are like, "Oh, you're in your thirties now, you must be so mature." Maturity? Please, the other day I tried to microwave a burrito with the wrapper still on. I mean, who needs instructions, right? And don't get me started on technology. My niece saw me using a flip phone and said, "Is that a fossil?" I told her, "No, sweetheart, it's called retro chic." I miss the days when the most complicated piece of technology was a VCR blinking 12:00. Now, my phone blinks with notifications, and I'm just trying to figure out how to stop it from autocorrecting my age to 63.
So, here's to being 36 and still trying to adult like a pro, even if I can't figure out how to set up my voicemail.
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Adulting is hard, right? I mean, I recently had to buy a washer and dryer. It turns out, they don't just magically appear in your laundry room; you have to pay for them. Who knew? So, I go to the store, and the salesman starts throwing around terms like "front-loading" and "energy-efficient." I'm just nodding along, pretending I know what he's talking about. Then there's the whole homeownership thing. They say it's an investment, but so is buying Bitcoin, and at least Bitcoin doesn't have a leaky roof. And let's talk about lawn care. My neighbor has the perfect lawn, and here I am, just hoping my grass doesn't die of neglect.
And don't get me started on insurance. Trying to understand insurance policies is like deciphering ancient hieroglyphics. I'm convinced they make it confusing on purpose so you just give up and pay whatever they ask.
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Dating at 36 is like trying to find a needle in a haystack, and the haystack is on fire, and you're also allergic to hay. The other day, I went on a date, and the guy said he was looking for someone with "vintage charm." Vintage charm? I'm not a collectible teapot; I'm a human being. And online dating? It's a whole new level of insanity. You scroll through profiles, and it's like a menu at a restaurant you've never been to. "Do I want someone who's adventurous and loves hiking, or do I want a cozy night in with a self-proclaimed Netflix expert?" I can barely decide what to order at a restaurant; now I have to choose a life partner?
I tried speed dating recently. They say you make a snap judgment in seven seconds. Seven seconds! I can't even decide what socks to wear in seven seconds. Needless to say, my dating life is like a romantic comedy, minus the romance and the comedy.
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