I am not aging, I am not.

It is with trepidation that I remove my shirt now. For I find irrefutable proof that I am, gasp, aging. My stomach, where it once had abs, then became merely flat. Now, occasionally, it is, and it kills me to say this, no longer flat especially after I eat a lot and drink a lot, for then it actually protrudes slightly, even if only for a while.

Please take a sickle to my head.

I also find that I cannot run as fast, jump as high or am as fit as I used to be.

I hope it is only because I have not been exercising as much as I have, and that it is merely a matter of fitness.

But there are other suspicious signs! My face seems to have been drier, and the resultant is that under certain lighting conditions, I see certain marks of aging. My appetite is less voracious. I get more easily tired and I prefer to just hibernate and lie in darkened rooms like a vampire.

Gosh…I think I’m going to restart my exercise habits with a vengeance. If I can’t stop aging, at least I can reduce its deleterious effects!