Seriously, what the hell am I doing with my 20’s?
When I was a kid, I dreamed that by 26 I’d be married, have a career, and would be starting a family. I dreamed of owning my own house and having a fenced in backyard for lots of dogs and kids to run in. I imagined I’d be settled in my plans and would have everything figured out. Yet here I sit, staring down birthday after birthday, having genuinely NO clue what I’m doing. I am a horribly unhealthy eater, to which my doctor has so delicately pointed out my weight gain in the past couple of years, and highlighted an exercise plan for me because I’m now considered in the “obese” category. A huge thank you to that God-forsaken BMI. Exercise? Running alone sounds like an episode of criminal minds and going to the gym always results in that creepy guy that moves to the equipment behind you to stare at your ass. I see you, bro. I’m spinning in circles just trying to get my footing on at least ONE plan that I had. I can’t keep a relationship to save my life, yet I have ...