A cautionary birthday tale… appropriately enough, it involves a binge. Probably the first and last of its kind, for me. If you missed it, you missed it.
Last night I met up with a bunch of friends for birthday drinks, and for the majority of the evening almost the entire bar was filled with people I know, or people who know people I know. It was pretty crazy to walk in and see people from all areas of my life, hanging out and chatting. It was like one of those weird dreams where later you realize… and then Adam was talking to Sam, but Adam doesn’t KNOW Sam. Crazy dream!
I didn’t recognize a few people, because it was so weird seeing them out of context. (One guy I’d only ever seen in a bathing suit showed up in clothes, and THAT threw me for a loop.)
And some of my friends showed up at the bar not even knowing that it was my birthday or that they had been invited. (Or so they told me.) Just coincidental attendance. Haha.
But this post is not about that. This post is about how I am the total poster-child for NOT drinking– low tolerance, lightweight, weak-stomached, didn’t-really-drink-in-college little me.
But when you give this girl designated drivers and place her in a bar that is almost entirely populated with her friends on her birthday (making her feel warm and fuzzy inside, and very amenable to doing whatever said friends say), and those friends don’t ever want her to be empty-handed, she is going to end up drinking… oh God, at least one vodka tonic, a Tokyo iced tea, a tequila shot (with an ORANGE SLICE chaser, because the bartender was looking out for me and said it’s the best), a chocolate cake shot (which– shockingly– I was reluctant to drink, but it was delicious), a Jack and ginger, a Cosmo and … maybe more?
(Can you call a female bartender a tendress?)
Incidentally, I’d never had a tequila shot, and a woman I didn’t know asked if I was turning 21. I was like, oh man, I have to live a little. I bitched like a little baby about having to lick salt (I’m so sensitive to sodium) and drink a WHOLE shot (the glasses LOOKED huge, and sometimes I kind of just cough shots up) and put a lime in my mouth (the enamel strips off my teeth at the SIGHT of lemons). But it was actually surprisingly easy. (And I happily ate several orange slices.) And when I finished, Cole said, “Today you are a woman.”
(An hour ago, if I’d tried to think about/type that, I would have barfed.) (Again.)
I realize that some people are reading this and going, WTF? She didn’t drink THAT much! Thing is, I’m the type who can drink one or two drinks (sometimes even one beer– I think it’s a dehydration thing) and have a resounding headache the next day. So it should have occurred to me that drinking sooo many drinks wouldn’t go down easy with my bod.
I drank water when I got home, and took Motrin. I felt okay until about… sunrise? And then I started to feel… REALLY not fine. So I took more Motrin, but it didn’t stay down.
As I mentioned, there was vomiting. Multiple rounds. With torturous long intervals in between during which I wondered if I would ever NOT be nauseated again. Luckily I got a sense of when the vom was coming and made it to the toilet. (And was thinking, nooo, now I’m even MORE dehydrated!)
By the by, chair pose in yoga is a really good warm up for squatting over the toilet.
As much as I HATE barfing, I feel better now. And empty. Like, don’t do a Master Cleanse. Just drink a buttload, and be me.
That’s the crazy thing– my friends were surprised to hear that I vomited. That was wayyy more alcohol than I’ve ever consumed at one time in my life, but some of my friends can drink to blackout and just have a headache the next day.
Can’t say I’m jealous. (And no– I didn’t black out. I remember all!)
So I kinda hate everybody for buying me so many drinks, but I know that it was out of love. And I’m sorry for throwing snack foods at several people, and for having a great (and uncanny) knack for knocking the straw out of my drink and demanding a new one. (Thanks to the people who tended to me and/or the straws.) (Tenderizers?)
My mom advised that I avoid the sun today, so I’m holed up in my room with the shades drawn, like a vampire. I’m kinda loving that element of it. I vant to be alone!
(But I did end up missing Sara’s brunch, including pumpkin baked good goodness.) (Noooo.)
For a few minutes I thought I was dying. I’m going to a film screening at a cemetery tonight (speaking of Binges, it’s Willy Wonka– Augustus Gloop knows how I feel!), and I was like– wouldn’t it be ironic if I couldn’t go because I DIED? (Part of the reason WHY I’m going is that I figure I’ll spend the majority of my future birthdays at a graveyard, so it just feels so darn appropriate.) (Paging Dr. Therapist.)
At one point this morning I was too nauseated to think about food or even look at a TV or computer screen, and I told my mom that I was canceling the Binge. (Or maybe just changing it to the Purge?) (Ugh, I hate vomiting. And somehow when I vomit I simultaneously cry. But it made my eyes/lashes look surprisingly dewy.)
But now I have successfully eaten a banana and written this entry, so I think I’m on the road to recovery (and pizza). (Much, much later tonight.)
And next year I’m having my birthday at a cupcake shop or something. (Let’s be real, I could eat those to vomitocious excess as well.)
Thanks to everybody who came out and bought me a drink. (I forgive you!) I had a lot of fun at the time and I was glad to see so many people I know from so many places in the SAME place, and I’m glad I didn’t barf/cry in front of you!