Drinking: A Love/Hate Relationship
There’s so much I love about drinking: it helps me forget about stress and schoolwork, it makes everything that happens so much funnier, and it’s fun to do outside when it’s nice out. (…and inside when it’s crappy out. And in the morning. And in the night. And on Mondays.) And those crappy Black Eyed Peas songs you usually can’t stand? Total fist pumpers! Not to mention the hilarious piecing together that happens the morning after.
All your problems seem to melt away when you’re on the dance floor with your girlfriends, double Long-Island in hand, but all that goodness doesn’t come without a price. And I’m not talking about the $65 bar tab you discover in the morning. Us experienced college gals know that sometimes the fun doesn’t last past last call. Alas, the downsides of drinking…
For us single ladies, anything that happens with the opposite sex while intoxicated is bad. (Almost as bad as my drunk dance moves to “Single Ladies.” Note to self: You do not look/sing/dance like Beyonce. ) A dancefloor make-out is always fun, but should you really go back to his apartment and risk an embarrassing walk of shame the next morning? And why do we always insist on texting that guy that we swore to our sober selves we’d never in a million years text again? And how on earth did we remember his phone number even though we took it out of our phones last weekend? WHY DID WE INVITE HIM OVER?
Drunk tears are the WORST. And most often they have to do with #1. Although, they have also been known to stem from friends, acquaintances, mean bartenders, or discovering the burrito place is closed when all you want is a big, fat one. A few strong drinks + something (anything) to tip us off = Niagra Falls of the Face. And without waterproof mascara, well, it ain’t pretty.
Get one (yes, one!) drink in me and I can’t remember the daily workouts/salads that plague me all week long. Suddenly I not only want, but need, to eat an entire pizza by myself. Or break into my roommate’s cookie supply and polish off a whole sleeve of Oreos. That may or may not be dipped in frosting. Or ranch. Or whatever I can get my paws on.
4. Dance moves
I took a few dance classes back in the day, but a few cranberry vodkas deep I mistakenly believe I am the sexiest possible fusion of a Rockette and a seasoned stripper. Hair twirling, dropping all the way to the floor, dancing with a boy with less than two feet touching the ground, you name it, I’ve done it (and I’m not the only one!). I’m sure I look ridiculous to anyone who remembers, but I just can’t kick the dance-floor habit.
The ultimate suckiest consequence of a long night of drinking. No matter how many Advil we pop, pizzas we eat or glasses of water we chug before bed, we just can’t seem to avoid it. More often than not, we wake up with a pounding headache, can’t see straight, and spend at least 20 minutes trying to figure out how to get last night’s mistake out of our bed before we puke. And then sitting in lecture when the room is spinning and our stomach is churning? Vom.
Sigh. Even though all 5 of these things plagued me this morning last weekend alone, I know I’ll still be hitting up happy hour later… When will we ever learn?!