It’s all downhill from here

I am the first person to admit that I am completely pathetic when I am sick. I become childlike and demanding and miserable. The world has to revolve around me more than usual because as far as I can tell, I’m dying. And people should feel sorry for me.

Virus
This is an attempt to make a virus look cute. Do not be fooled.

In fact, I had a long argument with The American about why I shouldn’t be left at home alone today, because I need someone to take care of me, because I am dying. That didn’t work. So, now I am home alone and feeling very sorry for myself. And any desire that The American had about having children one day has been cured.

Sick in Bed
Bed rest: not as much fun as it is in the movies.

Today I realised that after turning 25 your body goes backwards.

Although I passed the quarter century milestone some time ago, I have noticed how things just aren’t the same anymore. I don’t bounce back the way I used to.

I have been very sick twice in the past six months. Both times involved a lot of coughing and sneezing and me making puppy dog eyes at anyone who would give me attention. Before I turned 25 I wouldn’t even catch a cold. Now I need bed rest and a prescription from a medical practitioner.

Another horrible truth is the severity of hangovers in your mid-twenties. Back at university I would drink to excess and often. And I would be able to go to class and function normally the next day (except for the one day I fell asleep on my German professor) and celebrate with more beer and shooters once the sun went down (I believe I did that after the incident with the professor).

Now, if I mix my drinks or have one beer too many, I am out of action for two days. When I was 18 I would wake up, say ‘ouch’, rub the sleep out of my eyes and continue with my youthful living. Now, I wake up, swear at everything and then I swear a little more as it gets worse.

There is no cure, but I did enjoy the movie

I tried drinking a lot of water between drinks at a party once. The only thing this lead to was me spending most of the evening in the little girls room and not getting drunk at all. That was for my 26th birthday…

Back in the day I could party until 2am. Now I’m lucky if I can stay awake past 9pm. I suppose I’m not waking up at midday anymore, but the ability to stay awake would be nice. I have become a narcoleptic party pooper.

Disco
This is just a memory

I know it’s true and I have made peace with the fact that it’s all a lumpy downhill from here.

25
The view from just over 25 isn't nearly as pretty
It’s all downhill from here

Tomato

The American doesn’t eat tomatoes. Not on pizza, not in pasta, no tomato sauce – nothing. Anything red results in nose wrinkling and the look of a cornered animal about to be shot and skinned. Not even my irresistible puppy-face can convince otherwise.

And this is a bit of a problem in our relationship. Because I love them. And it’s about the only fruit that I will actually eat. And since the American doesn’t eat much meat, the dinners I can make are limited. As far as I am concerned, all the tastiest vegetarian meals contain tomato.

The American subscribes to my blog (because it’s important to know what I do on the internet) and will read this, so Dear American (and all other tomato haters), please consider the below.

A tomato is a pretty thing.

A solitary tomato looking good on its own

It’s red and shiny and looks great in a crowd.

Tomato and friends - still very attractive

It looks like a marijuana plant without the fruit.

Even the pre-tomato is good looking

It’s versatile in its uses.

Even dehydrated it still manages to be attractive

It contains vitamins and prevents scurvy. I read somewhere that it increases the natural sun defence of human skin. And I know people who drink it as a hangover cure. It contains anti-oxidant goodness. So combined with the sun protection is likely the fountain of youth, if only people would consume more of it.

Tomato