Sunday, May 11, 2014

Getting Older Is Difficult When You Have to Make Good Decisions

I'm the girl that has tried every diet.  Weight Watchers, No Carb, Low Carb, South Beach, Vegetarian, you name it...I've given it a go.

And like most women who have stumbled, kicking and screaming into their 30s, I've realized that my body isn't like it was in my 20s.  Hangovers are miserable and can last 2 or 3 days, I'm slow and tired, my joints ache in places they never used to ache, and I've found the scale slowly creeping up despite my efforts at attempting a moderately healthy diet.

In college it was nothing to binge drink daiquiris and call for midnight-delivery DP Dough or cram fries and pizza rolls in my face.   I could still fit into my skinny jeans the next day or don a shirt with no worry of muffin-top or feeling like I was as bloated as a puffer fish.

And if you're reading this while in college, consider it a warning and enjoy that shit now.  Because in the next 10-11 years, it'll all change, sister.  You'll go from chugging wine and slamming beer to wondering if you should just stick with one glass of red wine because it has less sugars than white wine, but reminding yourself that your hangovers are way the fuck worse with red wine as opposed to white.

Seriously.  You want a nightmare? Wake up with a red-wine hangover.  You'll no doubt sell your soul to the Devil Tenacious D style or bury your head under a mountain of pillows and swear over and over that you'll never drink again if the Dear Sweet 6 Pound 8 Ounce Baby Jesus will JUST TAKE THIS FUCKING HANGOVER AWAY..

And to be honest, that red wine hangover was nothing in college.  Chug a bottle of whatever happens to be available on an empty stomach and chase it with a gyro?  Pass out fully-clothed in a bed (maybe it's not yours...maybe you have low judgement).  No problem. You'll walk of shame your hot-mess ass back home and do it all again.

Do the same thing when you're 31? Hell hath no fury like a hangover. Double that if it is a red wine hangover. Legit. I had one of the worst red wine hangovers I have ever experienced a year ago when Chris and I started dating.    I'm going to tell this highly inappropriate story and warn you that it involves heavy amounts of barf and low amounts of self-respect.  Enjoy.

Chris came over for Valentines Day and I decided to cook him my absolute favorite meal - seared scallop and asparagus risotto.  He didn't know what I was making so he came armed with a large bottle of Malbec.

Little did Chris know that I used a quarter of a cup of the white wine I was cooking in the risotto, but in my nervousness I downed the remainder of the Pinot Grigio prior to him coming over.  It was a brand new bottle of Pinot Grigio.

So Chris came over with his giant bottle of Malbec and I drank.  ANd DrAnK. aUnd DreiAnhk. ANNNNNNDDDDD DRaaannnKKKKkkkKKkkkKk.

I was hammer timed. I was a Trashed-A-Saurus Rex.  So sauced that I kicked him out of my apartment and managed to close the front door to the apartment before sprinting to my bathroom, throwing up the toilet seat and projectile vomiting all over the toilet, on the tile floor, on the back of the toilet, and on the heater next to the toilet. I'm sure in the chaos, I managed to actually hit the toilet. But all I can remember is that my bathroom looked like a murder scene.

And since I was still drunk and it was pretty late, I closed the toilet, washed my hands, shut the door, and drug my drunk ass into bed.

The next morning, I woke up praying that someone would just kill me already.  I was sure I was being punished for something I had done.  I must have been paying for some kind of karmic action or something shitty that I had done in my past.

I completely forgot about the scene in my bathroom until I opened the door and was hit with the abomination.  And if the sight wasn't bad, just think of what a bottle of white wine, an extra large bottle of red wine, and regurgitated seafood can smell like the next day.  On a heater.  In the middle of winter.

Nevermind that I had to go to work. But I couldn't take two steps without moaning and whimpering.  Even for an overcast day, the sun was shooting daggers into my eyeballs. I was dying.  This is what it felt like to be dying.  I should have just started making peace with it.

Besides smelling like the floor of a very seedy wine bar, I'm sure I looked like absolute hell.  When I tried to step past the door of the bathroom and into the shower, my legs locked up and my brain said a very loud, "Oh hell no, Miss thing.  The fuck you think you're doing?"

I was calling into work.

So I did.  And since I needed to be able to use my bathroom, I started scrubbing the walls.  And the toilet.  And my sink.  And the floor.  And my heater. And the tub.  And under the sink (seriously..what the shit?) And above the toilet.  And behind the door (behind the door!??! Oh jesus. This is just ridiculous).

I felt awful for two whole days.  I didn't want to look at wine. I didn't want to smell wine. I didn't want to be in the same room as wine. Wine was like a recent ex-boyfriend I wasn't ready to deal with yet.  It just wasn't happening.  And what makes the already disgusting story even worse is that for weeks after that night, I was finding little leftover spots of a reminder of my drunken stupor around the bathroom. Despite my very stringent efforts at cleaning.

Now. Same scenario in college? Sure I might have talked to God on the big white telephone, but the next day I would have rallied. I would have been strong!  Yes.  Yes I know I drank my body weight in fermented fruit the day before, but I am ready for Power Hour and Progressives.  I am ready to kick ass and take names on a bar crawl.  Give me some Jimmy Johns and point me in the direction of slutty clothes and the nearest bar. I'm going to ho myself up and get out there like a damn champion.

The same is true for food. (I'm bringing it back around again) In younger years you can virtually eat whatever you want and still feel decent. Something happens when you get older.  Your metabolism slows down, and you not only have to make time to juggle all of your adulthood priorities, but you need to start making decent food decisions.

What a bummer.

So this Wednesday, I'm starting the Advocare 24-Day Challenge.  I've got a few really good friends who are Advocare Distributors and have a ton of other friends who have done the challenge.  I'm planning on posting my results once the challenge is over and trying to blog recipes and my thoughts as I go through the process.

I've heard amazing things about Advocare and I've seen some of the great results.  I look forward to trying the program, seeing how it works for me, and - hopefully - maintaining it post-challenge.

And I am looking forward to sharing my journey with ya'll.

And if nothing else, it'll be a lot of me bitching about how the Citrus Fiber Drink tastes like wood chips marinated in citrus-asshole and how I really just want french fries.

Just kidding. I've heard the Fiber drink really isn't that bad. Maybe.  I hope.

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