I’ve discovered that I’m no longer young.
No, I’m not old (not unless you’re 5, then relatively speaking, I’m ancient). But I’m no longer a teenager, not even in a gastrointestinal way.
It was red velvet cake that convinced me. Have you ever tried a softball size piece of moist, rich velvet cake, with thick smooth layers of cream cheese frosting? It’s really good–if you’re eighteen.
My stomach is not eighteen. Judging from its reaction, it’s not even twenty.
Now I know what having a sugar high feels like. Never had to worry about that when my stomach was a young whippersnapper of fifteen or sixteen. Today, I can still feel the lead weight of that red velvet, nearly 24 hours after the fact.
Aaah, the trials of old age…