I feel like I don’t ask much from my body. I mean, I’m fairly good to it. I feed it more good-for-it stuff than bad-for-it stuff. I gave up Diet Coke more than a year ago—cold turkey. I move it on a regular basis. I even just bought it TWO bikes this week. I dress it nicely and groom it rather regularly. Ahem.

And yet.

Asking my jaw to not click and pop when I chew?

Obviously overstepping because good lord, I’m now officially on an elderly person’s diet, minus the boiled chicken. Soft foods + painkillers. Oooh, my life is all thrills, I tell you.

I’m being punished for something, I know it.

SO, what is it?

Watching Degrassi without shame? Having inappropriate dreams about David Boreanaz? Not flossing enough? Looking at too much real estate porn? Letting my kids watch Dance Moms? Coveting Kelly Ripa’s dresses and arms and hair? Not liking chocolate? Watching Mad Men episodes three times to make sure I get every single tiny bit of subtext? Having too much rage again Zack and Cody? Having not enough rage against iCarly?

Embarrassing my children by singing my indie folk music—loudly—with the car windows rolled down? Going to bed too late? Mocking 50 Shades of Grey? Believing the radio when they told me that LOST might be returning to TV? Only learning how to pronounce acai this past week? Wanting the whole “ALL THE THINGS” thing to die and whining about it too much on social media?

Being too jealous of all of the old men driving MY Alfa Romeo? Not owning an umbrella? Not knowing how to dance? Owning a pair of jorts? Loving Cher? Wanting to grow thick Brooke Shields eyebrows? Quoting too many ’80s movies? Not liking the park?

WHAT IS IT?

And while you’re at it, you may as well pass the pudding. And the oatmeal.

Or, you know, I could do what normal people do and go to the dentist and get this stupid jaw looked at.

Or I could just eat soft foods forever. And whine on Twitter.