Why I Have More Than 1

I am anticipating a long summer filled with bachelorette parties, BBQ's and festivals. Before it begins I think it is important for me to clear the air about my 'habits' and, what some may consider, unruly behavior...

It is no secret that when I start ordering margaritas and Blue Moons I am in for a fun evening, and a hell of a hangover. My biggest problem is that I'm hardly a drinker (anymore) and only indulge in the (oh so yummy) brews and concoctions one or two times a month. Which leads to the biggest problem I face as a binge drinker, barfing in my purse.

I realize that I am no longer the little lush I was in my youth, but it still doesn't stop me from ordering a second drink even though the first does a great job of relaxing my mind and body. So I get it. And that one gets me talking. A lot. By the time I order #3 I don't even think twice because I am so involved in conversation and having such a blast with my friends. That's when the real trouble starts. Anything after 3 is like a death sentence for me. The fourth drink is almost certainly a guarantee that I am in no shape to make any decent decisions for the rest of the evening.

When I say it like that it sounds terrible, so before you stage an intervention let me explain my actions and choices...

Drink 4 is awesome. Probably the most fun of the bunch. It puts on my dancing shoes, has me laughing and joking and letting loose. It is perhaps most important to note that when I finally reach this 'milestone' in my evening I am not alone. My friends and fellow mommies are right by my side making the same horrible decisions to keep drinking and dancing. We are reliving our glory days without thinking that the kids will have us up at 5 and want slimy eggs for breakfast and be racing around the house with Nerf guns and fighting over legos and pillows and on and on and on. We're thinking, this is FUN and we should do this more often and wow I forgot how much I loved this song by Def Leppard.

What I am definitely not thinking about is how I will feel tomorrow. How difficult my next three days will be with a hangover. How I am 33, not 23, and though I deny it, my body does not. How I am just barely over 100 lbs and consuming tequila as if it were water.  How I will spend the rest of my evening with my head spinning, and barfing, and laying on the cold bathroom floor resting my head on the toilet, wishing for death to save me.

Nope. I am thinking everything will be fine, this time. Because this time I am not going to drink too much. I will have the time of my life with no consequences. I will float on clouds and sleep soundly. And in the rare event that I do barf, it will only be rainbows and magic.  

(I found this picture of drunk me on a tshirt...

I think Turbo took it after my friend's Halloween party last year.)