Being in my mid-twenties feels like life is just one perpetual hangover.
In college, I used to think people were lying about feeling like shit the day after drinking. My two roommates used to lock themselves into black caves on Saturdays, avoiding anything slightly reflective or bright. A mere ice cube could send them into a fit of trembling fear because god forbid it caught a hint of light and shined into their eyes. They wouldn’t watch television, listen to music, or smile. Meanwhile, I’d be running around like an over-sugared toddler, banging pots and pants together and singing “All By Myself” at the top of my lungs until SOMEONE on campus would wake up and hang out with me.
But oh how the bliss of ignorance passes. These post-grad years have proven that I too am mortal, and now two measly glasses of wine means a full brain explosion in the AM, guaranteed.
Seeing as we’re now a full day past the New Year’s hangover, you’d think I’d be fully recovered. But I’m not. And you’re probably not either, are you? (UNLESS OF COURSE YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL DRINKING AGE IN WHICH CASE YOU SHOULD BE BOUNCING OFF WALLS AND CHUGGING NOTHING BUT ORANGE JUICE, YOU YOUTHFUL SPRITE.) It’s just that everyone knows the only way to get past a hangover is to have a beer, and after a week of vacation you’ll find that one beer quickly turns to five and shot, because why not and the diet starts tomorrow.
SO, seeing as we’re always honest with each other, tell me:
On a scale of Bacon, Egg & Cheese bagel to Can’t Keep Anything Down Not Even Water, how hungover are you?
Are you at a Taco Bell 5? Maybe a Bloody Mary & Sunglasses 7? A Bedridden 8?
Currently I’m down to a Coffee AND Diet Coke 2, but yesterday I was a full Can’t Talk Can’t walk 11.
Photo by Fanny Lantour-Lambert