Forget YOLO, YOFNO! (You Old From Now On)
Most mornings, getting up and ready for work is a chore. I set my alarm for 5:45 a.m. so that I get up by 6:15. Most days I hit snooze for another 15 minutes just for the thrill. I shower and stress about how I have no 'big girl work clothes' for at least five more minutes. I find an outfit, and then it’s 6:30 a.m., and every morning without fail, I rush to get my two toddler boys up and dressed. Because I have a stubborn Scorpio and a bossy Pisces, they refuse to go to sleep before 11:00 p.m. but also want to give all the ‘tude when it’s time to get ready in the morning.
School will be a real treat when they get older!
Anyway, generally, we rush to get out of the door and do our whopping three-minute-walk to my mom’s house, where along the way, the terrible two-year-old will cry and throw himself on the ground if I try to hold his hand. The three-year-old will want to be picked up and carried to grandma’s; he, the emperor, and I, his chariot.
Then I mad dash to the bus so that I can stand for a 30-40 minute commute from Newark to NYC.
But not today.
Today was different. I was up at 5:00 a.m. this morning. I was fully awake too! No drowsiness or questioning how badly I really needed this job. I took my time as I got ready. By 5:45 a.m., I was in the kitchen making a western omelet to bring to my mom. I was feeling so great about myself because I was like "Damn. I’m adulting like a mug right now! I should do this every morning!"
Now, why was I up at 5:00 a.m, when I usually get up around 6:15? Well, I'm glad you asked! I was wide awake because I was on the 'throne' all night.
I drank a 10oz bottle of Citroma laxative at 8:00 p.m. the night before that did not kick in within 1 -2 hours like the bottle said it would. So I was up.
It took me a few hours of pain before I decided to take the laxative because about two weeks ago; I hurt my back while lifting one of my sons. I was lying on the couch with my oldest asleep on my chest couch (because, why would I be in my bed?). When I tried to rock and roll up without waking him, my back was like “Yeah, it’s a no for my dawg,” and I haven’t been right since.
"What's a laxative got to do with that, Sheyenne?" I'm getting to it. No, it wasn't my injury that required me to chug the laxative. It was me forgetting I'm old and eating dairy.
See in the middle of May, I spent a week in Europe and while in Paris, I ate whatever the f I wanted: duck, escargot, McDonald's (you’d be a fool not to try McDonald's in a different country!), but worst of all, I had raclette.
If you don't know what that is, I suggest you stop reading here because you’ll be tempted to find some, and I don’t want you to be like me. For those with willpower, raclette is basically a big ass wheel of cheese hooked up to this doohickey that melts the cheese slowly, so that you can literally shave it off onto your plate.
Picture globs of cheese. I would eat it with a fork. I would eat it with a spoon. I would eat it in the dark; I’d eat it in the afternoon. It wasn’t even on bread. Just on my plate. I was in ecstasy; this was my quintessential French experience. Wine and cheese, and the sun didn’t set until 11 p.m., so of course, I felt like I could just keep eating because there was time to recoup.
I am almost thirty, y’all. I cannot play these games anymore. I can’t eat my weight in dairy products anymore. So when my back “went out,” and I was hunched over incapable of finding comfort, I immediately knew my indulgence from THREE WEEKS AGO had come back to haunt me.
I could feel the gas bubble in my lower back, but couldn’t move it. But I was too proud to get a laxative. “Screw that! This is a gym injury! I’M A G! I’LL HEAL!”
No amount of seltzer water, tums or ice packs or ibuprofen has helped, so I had to finally give in and admit that my old ass needed a laxative. I ain’t 30 YET so this 'are you regular?' ish got me in my feelings. This pain is a memorial to my former youth.
This experience was God telling me, "Never forget. You can't eat whatever you want anymore."
And not for nothing, it’s 2 p.m., and I’m still paying for my sins if you catch my drift. Sigh. Don’t be like me, kids. Don’t eat all the cheese, or ice cream or insert devil dairy product here.
There is no YOLO. Only YOFNO – You Old From Now On.