Monday, August 11, 2014

I think I am currently / still dealing with a two day hangover. From 3 drinks and 2 shots. That used to be called a pregame. Now it is my demise.

Reed and I spent Saturday packing. Or I packed and he watched Miss Congeniality. Whichever. We then got dressed like adults and went to dinner with his friend, where we discussed our new house,  his pregnant wife, friends' weddings, and how to lay hardwood floor. Very grownup.

Then we went to Down. Down is a nightclub in Boston. I looked like a conservative old lady in my maxi dress, sipping my drink and judging the 21 year olds in their belly baring outfits. ( Okay, I half judged, half wished I wore something sluttier.) Just as I thought I'd successfully survived a nightclub with one drink, peer pressure reared it's ugly head. Shots. I tried to walk away. I tried to drink a sip then put it down. 8 sips later, tears streaming down my face (Fireball is no joke when you have sinuses), and multiple gags, I successfully placed the shot glass back on the counter...where a much larger one was waiting for me. A Red Headed Slut. I can't. 5 more sips and a water later I got it down. And then we went home and went to bed. Because we were tired. And old.

I awoke Sunday to ready myself for a baby shower - because when you're 29 and accidentally hungover you without fail have an adult commitment that day - and thought I was okay. I quickly learned I was not. It took me two hours to get ready, drink half an iced coffee, and eat 3 bites of a croissant. I thanked the Gods when I learned our table at the shower was closest to the door (and bathroom). Mini golf with Reed followed, with me fat-girl style plopping down at every bench I could find, whilst internally debating whether a 29-year old in a pink dress should blame a hangover or fake pregnancy if she happens to puke in the bushes in front of all those families.  Fast forward 8 hours and I am STILL sick, in fetal position on the couch, unsuccessfully trying to keep down Goldfish crackers. Fast forward another 12 and I have a splitting headache while trying to get through a Monday at work, tie up loose ends for our mortgage closing this week, and attempting to wrap my brain around how I am STILL hung fucking over.

I am DONE with surprise hangovers. The bachelorette, wedding, birthday party hangovers are still awful, but at  least you see them coming. The random hangovers you didn't expect because you forgot you don't have 24 year-old-you's tolerance are brutal. I hate losing a day of delicious meals, nausea-free movement, and actual activities. I can't stand wasting a Sunday on the couch now, previously my favorite weekly pastime. I feel so old and I am so okay with that. Please God, let me be able to wake up tomorrow feeling like a human being capable of morning spin class, work, a little laundry, and dinner with my friends. These are the dreams of a 29 year old.