Why was I in such a hurry?

I couldn't WAIT to be a grownup.  Now that I've been one for many ~ahem~ decades, I imagine being young again.  I don't really wish to be younger... but I sure wouldn't mind having a younger metabolism.

Wednesday was my birthday.  And while I was drifting off to sleep for the night, it occurred to me that Thursday would be THE PERFECT day to start anew.  Better than New Year's day in fact.  My birthdays, our birthdays, your birthdays mark the beginning of a new year on this planet.  If you want to be technical and take into account the nine months prior, then that kind of complicates things... I'm choosing to not be technical.  In any case, regardless of the day of the week or the time of year, our birthdays ARE the perfect time to make resolutions, if you are so inclined.

So there I am in bed, feeling a small, sleepy rush of enthusiasm.  "I can do this" I thought.  "Small changes" I reasoned. "First kill the sugar and~" zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... 

It's now just three days later and I wish I could report some semblance of an attempt towards a single small, incremental change... but alas, I cannot.  I'm really becoming a bit concerned about this.  About myself.  I'm continuing to gain weight.  NONE of my jeans fit.  I don't mean just a little bit, I mean not at all.  Can't even squeeze into them for Casual Friday at work anymore.

What do I want to say?  "IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"  That's what.  But of course it is.  It's completely my fault.  And I feel frustrated and grumpy.  And old...ish.

Were my metabolism what it used to be, well then, that would be another story.   A story of heavily (heavenly) sugared cinnamon toast, monsterously thick and simple bologna sandwiches on white bread and warm, toasty, frosted Pop Tarts.  Good lord, it's amazing I didn't have a diabetic puberty.  Yum ~er~  I mean Ugh.

Hm... seems my childhood comfort foods were all ... kind'a ... square.