At 27...
I had my second job out of college, graphic design for another military contractor. It paid well, so I could afford to rent a whole house; a really nice Victorian townhouse with 3 bedrooms, an old clawfoot tub and brick patio on Capitol Hill. I was still in good shape after losing 40 pounds or so from the previous year.
But the house, great pay and great figure were just about the only good things I had going on that year. I was in an off-and-on relationship with a psycho. Looking back, I wish I'd been mature enough to learn to enjoy my own company...but sometimes these things have to play themselves out, I guess.
The job itself was really stressful. Long, long hours, and sexist treatment by my boss, coworker and some of the clients. Hard to believe workplace stuff like that could still happen in 1993.
And to top it all off, my parents' marriage was falling apart. It dragged out painfully, and ended in divorce the next year.
Wow, I hadn't realized what a crappy year that was until I started typing the second paragraph. I may not have a job, or be in the best shape...but I am so much happier now! At least until the unemployment benefits run out.
