Homecoming Post 7: 33 and Me

I will be 33 in less than a month. Believe it or not, I had almost forgotten, until I went to homecoming and remembered that once upon a time, I used to walk up and down the campus multiple times a day. Up stairs and down stairs. Across the canal and back again. Oh to be 19, because on the verge of 33, all I wanted to do was sit down someplace and take a nap. Yes, homecoming taught me somethings about myself as an old woman. Below are some points.

I can party...just not all night
When I was a sophomore, me and two of my friends decided to literally stay on Bourbon Street from dusk until dawn. We stayed at the club until we were put out for falling asleep on the stage at around 7am. I don't know why we would do something that stupid. During homecoming, I felt like I was winning, leaving each party promptly at 1:30am. I can't be cute if I don't get enough sleep. Which brings me to my next point.

I have a bedtime

Yes, I am in my 30s with a bedtime and I don't care how much of a lame that makes me. I. Need. My. Rest. Thumbs up to the hotties I saw on campus who I saw at the club the night before who left after me and were still cute in the morning. I know I make being cute look easy, but it ain't. It's a delicate combination of water consumption, fish oil tablets, and sleep that is keeping me alive and pretty. 

I hate shoes 

Once upon a time, I would be be uncomfortable on purpose just to be cute. Tight skirts and dresses. Yass girl, I tried it! Not today. I may be able to tolerate uncomfortable clothes, but not shoes. When my feet hurt, I have to kick my shoes off. In the grocery store. In church. At the club. I can not stand to be in shoes. My feet have to be free! I enjoyed being barefoot at the club all of homecoming until I saw some little shit taking a picture of my feet. I'd like to say this made me put my shoes back on. It didn't. 

I think all men are fine 

At the tailgate, everyone guy I saw looked good. They all looked young. They all looked buff. They were all hotties. After having a who's cute powwow with friends, I was informed that I must have been seeing things. They are all fat, not buff, and were definitely hotter in college. I disagree. They have all aged like fine wine to me. Those advanced degrees have done their bodies good honey! 

I no longer have an alcohol tolerance 

Club night one: I had an amaretto sour, heavy ice. Club night two: I had a Ciroc and cranberry that had me sweatin'! Club night three: I crashed someone's VIP and got some cranberry juice. The moral of the story: my drinking days are over. I have lost a taste for alcohol, and the little bit that I do drink nearly knocks me off my feet. #byebyehandgrenadedays

I turn 33 right before Christmas, and I suspect as my 33rd year goes on my list will get longer. And I don't care, another symptom of old age.