My self-diagnosed-chronic-premature-elderly condition

My inner child.

They say age is just a number. You are only as old as you feel. Well if that is the case, hello. My name is Jenny and I am 80 years old. Not sure what is going on with me recently but nothing I eat is satisfying, my body aches, and I am exhausted. And there is really no reason for it. I am not training for an Iron Man. I am not staying up until 3am every night. I am not a mother. I have no major financial responsibilities. It is not the winter, so I am not suffering from SADD. There really is no good reason for my SDCPEC (see title).

Let me break this down for you:

My lower back feels like there is a microscopic army trapped within the muscles trying to fight free. Dear Army. GET OUT OF MY BODY. You are not welcome. Advil did not deplete you and I am in pain. I literally don't even want to get up to go to the bathroom so I end up doing a potty dance in my chair to avoid the extension of my legs. My coworkers stare. My clients on the phone wonder why I sound anxious. I attribute this pain to the 60 push ups and two sets of two minutes planks my crazy fitness instructor made us do yesterday as well as all the other exercise I have been doing this week to make up for an entire summer of calorie over-load.

You must eat here immediately.

Let's talk more about that. This summer I have certainly had my fair share of culinary experiences and subsequent food comas. As an example, this past Saturday we went out on the lake for my roommates birthday and I had literally 10 chocolate-chip cookies. In a row. After having a hamburger. While on a moving vessel. And to be honest, I could have eaten more. Seriously if Man v. Food challenged me, man (being me) would have won. And despite my best efforts to eat healthy on the week nights, having a social life is not conducive to my relationship with lean cuisine. This past week I splurged both Monday at Cantina Laredo (chips and guac - yes please) and Tuesday at this awesome new restaurant called Silly Goose and the neighboring ice cream shop called Jeni's in East Nashville.

Jenny with an "i".. really?

Let's digress again and talk about Jeni's. After a lovely meal with Jordan's family and Justine, we anxiously skipped to this ice cream shop, which absolutely lived up to its divine reputation (despite the fact that this chick clearly does not know how to spell her own name). The flavors are exquisite, versatile, and unlike any combinations I have ever tasted. You must check it out here. After practically consuming a pint in "taste tests" of their intriguing flavors (and of course proudly dumping my many taste-tester spoons into the bucket sending a chime through the surrounding crowd in line), I got two scoops - one of salty caramel and another of brown butter almond brittle. This re-instilled my pride for being a Jenny (especially since Jenny from the block pulled a D word, thus tarnishing the name).

Who knew you had a silent "p" in your spelling.

I try to eat healthy. But sisters vising and people with my name creating icy combinations of heaven makes it very difficult. And they say an apple a day keeps the doctor away? Lies. I love green apples but instead of improving my health, I have decided that quite the contrary, an apple a day ends makes me feel like a whale. So now I am not only chair potty-dancing but I am doing so looking and feeling like there is a whale in my tummy and a small army in my back.  (And if you overheard my Britney Spear's video singing, there appears to also be a chipmunk/ pterodactyl hybrid taking over my vocal cords).

I am 22 years old. I am supposed to be in the best physical years of my life. If I am having these issues now, what is going to happen in ten years? The degree of my exhaustion, aches, metabolic speed and overall stress is apparently enviable to someone older than me with "real problems." And it is apparently only going down hill from here. This concerns me. Greatly.