This past weekend, I really forgot who I was. See, it was a friend’s birthday. I don’t know what it is was that triggered this, but the fraggle-tot in me came out. I drank wine, out of a mason jar, through a straw.
Hello? Paging Whitney. You are not 19. Stop acting like it.
Imagine my horror on Saturday morning when I woke up to what had to be, THE WORST hangover of all time. I am talking can’t move, can’t open my eyes, verbally telling Clare who gets what of my belongings when I die. I have never felt so old in my life. And in that moment, all I wanted to do was rewind the night and take every single drink back. I wanted to wake up and say, “Hah! What a birthday party that was last night! Remember when we played clue. that got really wild.” I wanted to embrace my old maidness and just take it all back.
And so here is the truth for you. I drink wine a lot. Really, I drink a glass of really excellent wine often. It is not often that I throw caution to the wind and just drink a whole bag of wine.
And so the old lady in me had a realization this weekend: When life gives you lemons, instead of making margaritas, make lemon sorbet and give your liver a damn break.
I am drying out.