Spring Break!!

In just six days, the start of my spring break begins. And, I couldn't be more excited. Two weeks off from six-thirty am wake up calls?! Sign me up! What remains interesting to me is what "Spring Break," has meant to me as time goes on. I grew up watching MTV Spring Break, and so my entire adolescent knowledge base of Spring Break included, Girls Gone Wild, and Jenny McCarthy. In my early twenties, Spring Break entailed getting incredibly drunk, every night, for seven straight nights. By the time I arrived home, my body was in complete shambles, and I needed a vacation...just to recover from vacation.

Now, in my late twenties, spring break means something quite different for me. It will be a time for me to relax, rest, and catch up on my sleep. And, I'm literally thrilled about it.

The days of wet t-shirt contests, and whipped cream bikinis are certainly over. (Just kidding; I never actually participated in a wet t-shirt contest, and have never worn a whipped cream bikini). But, perhaps these life changes are all in par with what it means to be getting older.

I think about the life I used to live in college. Drinking four to five nights a week, scarfing down late night food. (Sidenote: My drunk late night food of choice, after chicken fingers of course, was always New England Clam Chowder). Who the fuck orders New England Clam Chowder after a night of guzzling nine Bacardi and diet Cokes? I'm disgusting.

Now, if I drink (hard) two nights in a row, I am completely done for, and start my week off exhausted. What happened to the old me? Is this called growing up? The college version of myself would not be pleased.

Five years ago on a Friday night, I would be out, drinking my face off, in New York City. (Probably at Tonic). Now, sure, I might go out with friends, but I would also be perfectly content lounging around my apartment, wearing pants with some sort of elastic waist band. The thing is, I accept these changes. In fact, I welcome them. The only frightening thing is imagining where this progression takes me five years from now. There. Now that's scary.