What the F*ck?

“What the actual f*ck?” I say to myself AT LEAST 57 times a day in my head. There are just some moments at this age that I can’t fathom what screws could possibly be loose that cause people to act in the manner that they do. Now, being the young adult I consider myself to be (even though I will still claim myself as a child any chance that I can), I drive myself to believe that I was born in the wrong generation. This mindset of “the 25-year-old grandma” comes from pondering thoughts that are far beyond my years. Most “kids” my age are worried about their mutual agreement “swipe right” hook ups on Tinder, or which bar will be poppin this weekend. Now, looking into my daily thoughts, “We will be out of coffee pods within the next two weeks, I should probably order new ones”, “I should really disinfect the door handles of my house since my fiance had the flu””What if my car randomly breaks down and I have no way to get to work tomorrow?” and then I think, “why the f*ck am I thinking about these unimportant tiny details of my life at 9:45 AM during a therapy session with a 6 year-old?” These are the moments I begin to chug my coffee and continue for the three hundredth time telling my student to stop putting their fingers in their nose. Working with children further verifies my underlying old age. You think those Barre Blend workouts are lifting and toning that booty girlfriend, wait until a Kindergartener tells you that their dad is 18, but pegs you at 102. Thats enough for me to call it a day and break out that giant size Reese Cup hidden in my desk drawer for emergencies. My advice to leave you with… always buy the extra large candy bars, and don’t be afraid to go to bed at 8:30 PM.

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