Quarter Life Crisis

I think I'm getting old. No - actually, it's official. I am DEFINITELY getting older. I'll be 32 this year. 32! Can ya' believe it? Where did the time go?

I was just in third grade. Just in high school. Just running around the campus at FAMU. Just buying my first car. Just getting my first apartment. Just getting married. Just getting divorced.

For six months before I turned 30, I was started practicing saying that I was 30. I was hoping that by the time the big day came that I would have lost that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of completing my third decade. I was dead ass wrong.

A litte more than a year ago, I experienced a major quarter-life crisis. So....

I quit my job. Quit my man. Cut off all my shoulder-length hair. And joined LA Fitness.

I quit my job because I hated my boss.

I quit my man because I hated the new girlfriend I caught him cheating on me with.

I cut off all my hair because I thought it would be liberating (wrong, again).

I joined the gym because at some point when I wasn't looking someone snuck up on me and attached my mother's ass.

Now here I am more than a year later. I have a new job (that I'm LOVING - something about having your own office) I have a NEW crush and I am excited about the infinite possibilities and all the places that this relationship could go. My hair has FINALLY grown into a style that I like again (for a minute, I was walking aroung with this awkward 'too-long-to-be-short-too-short-to-be-long, but really looks like shit' stage). I have changed my eating habits, slimmed down a few pounds and a couple of inches in the effort get rid of my mother's ass.

Crisis resolved...life is good.