Encounters of the Eight Year Kind

I went to a country club party.... they all knew my name... no one recognized me.... I didn't look the same...

Perhaps because I'm about as much at home at a country club as Tweety Bird is at home in the clutches of Sylvester the cat. All that "money" walking around makes me self conscious about the coins jingling in my pocket.

Actually it was me who wasn't recognizing the other people... or rather I recognized them but couldn't believe that after only eight years they suddenly looked... not quite old, but definitely gray at the temples and heavy in the waist.

And now I find myself torn. Do I ramp up my exercise routine to ensure my waistline goes in the opposite direction of those I encountered the other night - or do I follow the example set and toss back a few extra margaritas?

I hate having to make these types of milestone decisions.  I need an adult beverage to help me make a decision about adult beverages.