Twentysomething… Ironies and Conundrums

I have developed a wonderful set of tools that help me stay balanced, manage stress and cope with difficult experiences.
I still find myself occasionally reacting to stress or unpleasant surprises like a petulant child and/or eating an entire box of cookies. And a pint of ice cream. While crying.

I have learned the value of self-awareness, and I do believe I am becoming a better person for it.
Said self-awareness has also regrettably opened my eyes to the laundry list of things I have left to work on.

I have finally figured out how to achieve true emotional empathy in a relationship.
Unfortunately, I don’t want to marry a woman.

I am successfully balancing my career, relationships, social calendar, fitness routine, family commitments, travel and even a little bit of volunteer work.
I’m exhausted. And I don’t even have children yet.

I have found a wonderful exercise routine that makes me feel strong and energetic, has improved my balance and posture, and has helped me increase muscle tone.
The lower part of my thighs has gotten just toned and compact enough to accentuate saddlebags I didn’t even know I had.

I have a wonderful network of inspiring women in my life who have given me strength and guidance when I needed it the most.
I just didn’t expect to still need it so much at the age of 27.

I’m so relieved that I can finally afford to go home for Christmas without going broke, buy myself some nice work clothes, and even occasionally pamper myself.
For a while there, that discretionary income was dedicated to therapy, excessive tailoring bills attributed to stress-induced eating and/or starvation, and managing my hormone- induced acne.

Especially thanks to my wonderful niece and nephew, I feel myself inching closer and closer to being ready for motherhood.
I said inching. After 9 months of torture, it could take HOW LONG to get that thing out?

I’m in the best shape of my life.
After allowing myself to enjoy that achievement for approximately 6 minutes before turning my attention to the burrito that still camps out just below my beltline, I’ve realized that I may always be fat in my own mind.

I am at an age where I can laugh with my parents, enjoy their company and have mature, intelligent conversations with them.
Now I have to accept that they are real people, with faults and problems and weaknesses.

Acknowledging that men and women simply operate on different wavelengths and have dissimilar thought processes has helped me be a more patient, amicable mate.
Sometimes I get so frustrated and angry that the crazy forces its way out of my mouth faster than I can slam it shut.

I have finally realized what a useless waste of energy worrying is.
I’m just worried I’ll never figure out how to stop.

Although I had to learn the importance of finding the best doctors the hard way, I am pleased to have finally found a competent, thorough Dermatologist with an agreeable bedside manner.
She found $20,000 worth of “laser treatment-worthy” spider veins I never knew I had.

My healthy, balanced, protein-rich diet has led to a full, thick head of hair.
Is that cute little peach fuzz on my face moving in the same direction?

I’m becoming wise enough to acknowledge and learn from my own mistakes and missteps.
The only trouble is, I haven’t quite figured out how to keep myself from repeating a lot of them.