What the Hell Happened?

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One afternoon I went into one of the bigger office building in downtown Buffalo. I had an appointment on the 9th floor and I jumped into the elevator (because climbing the stairs was not an option) and much to my dismay, the elevator was a bank of mirrors. Halfway to my destination, I glanced in the mirror and said, quite loudly, 'What the hell happened to me?'
The other three people on the elevator moved as far away as possible.

It was a simple rhetorical question, but one that surprised me - when did my hair race into full retreat? Why did I have circles under my eyes? Let's not even discuss the extra weight, and the gray in my facial hair. Wasn't I just 18 years old? How in the hell had twenty-five years passed so quickly?

Why do I get tired partway through the day? How come I can't eat like there's a gun to my head anymore? And drinking beer? Forget it - I need to schedule at least three days off and you'll never get me to try a draft beer. There are nightly trips to the bathroom and sleeping in is waking up at seven. Hell, I can remember running home from a college party at seven in the morning so I could make church.

Now, I need at least seven hours of sleep and I fell asleep reading the other night. What the hell happened?

One of the men in the elevator finally turned to me. "The mirrors suck, don't they?" he asked.

"I just don't know what happened," I said. "I was never Brad Pitt, but I had no idea I looked so old."

"There's nothing wrong with getting old," he said. "Just tell yourself that you look more dignified."

I did even one better than that - I avoided the mirrors and took the stairs - I had to stop twice to pee.

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