Have you ever looked around at your life and thought, “Is this really my life right now?” I have thought this to myself on more than one occasion: for both good and bad reasons. I asked myself this question yesterday during what I had thought to be very pathetic circumstances. Last night, around seven thirty, I was lying on the couch, a Whitney Houston E! True Hollwood Story was droning on in the background, and I felt myself starting to drift off to sleep. I looked to the love seat next to me and saw my husband already miles into a deep slumber. Then I glanced down at my feet and saw my dog snoring away. Before I completely dozed off, I had to double check that it was really only 7:30 pm. It was. And at that moment I thought, “Is this really my life? Twenty seven years old, newly married, and asleep on the couch by seven thirty.” My best laid plans of not watching as much TV and eating more balanced meals was kind of shot to shit last night by a very filling burrito bowl from Chipotle and reality TV that, in reality, I wasn’t that …

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