The other night at the bar, our friend, O, and I were talking about how fucking hungry I've been lately. I just eat constantly. I don't know where it's coming from. Where I used to look at a foot-long sub and be disgusted at the sheer amount of food there, I now decide, "that looks about right!" And I'm not really dieting to curb any of this behavior. I'm just kinda going with it. Again, I don't know why. Fuck it, that's why. Anyway, we're talking about how I eat constantly with only minor constraints (I want a coke, so I'll have one. But not three) and intelligent shopping (keeping in mind that Whole Foods' salad bars charge by the lb for food keeps me from buying too much just out of concern for spending $40 on lunch, and quality foods are more satisfying than cheap ones so you eat less of them: one square of 65% cocoa packs the same taste whollop as 8 kit-kats), and O looked at me and said, "you're very lucky."
Only he didn't say it because I'm particularly thin. He said it because, in his words, "[he has] to thin about all the crap [he eats] because it's starting to affect [his] health." He said that all through college he used to just eat junk food and stayed thin and felt great. And now he has to contemplate the pros and cons of empty calories.
"Like how I get hangovers now and I never used to," I agreed. "It's just part of getting older."
And then we looked at each other, like, OH MY GOD ARE WE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION FOR REALS? OUR AVERAGE AGE IS 23.
And then I said, "I knew I was going to say that one day...I just didn't know how soon."
How soon is now?
And then I broke out some of that aforementioned high-quality chocolate I had been carrying around in my purse for a week, and we each ate a square in silence, staring at the tabletop and reflecting on the futility and undeniability of aging. Kill me when I rely on Metamucil to get through the day. Asking me to live through that conversation is asking too much.
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