Pretty Ugly

Once upon a time, while the world spun at an unnatural pace I sat in my friend’s car. We were waiting in line when out of nowhere, (JK – I knew it was coming), I get sick. So, we pull out of the drive through line at this fast-food joint so I can puke in the bushes on the side of the parking lot. Not my finest moment, but there was, believe it or not a silver lining to the whole unfortunate event. The lovely person who saved our spot in line… hero.

Honorable mention, goes to throwing up on the sidewalk outside of a strip mall while another wonderful friend was inside getting me Pedialyte. Where were we before that? Olive Garden. I took one bite of salad, and my dehydrated body did not want lettuce… it wanted water and perhaps a good stomach pump and instead was given the offensively gross public toilet at Olive Garden.

I don’t miss any of that. At all.

I actually had the flu a few months ago and was intrigued by the notion that I used to put myself in that position; the one lying in bed with a big red mixing bowl, clammy, hot and cold, shaky…

ON. THE. REGULAR. I anticipated it. Accepted it.

Drunk Jenni was impressive though; she was fearless in a way I didn’t know how to be sober. Her tolerance and ability to be completely, 100% blacked out, and still be conversing with folks who have no idea was outrageous (in the most charming way).

Drunk Jenni once mooned her friend in the coat area of a nice Christmas party, insisted a photo be taken, only for that photo to be uploaded to their friend’s shared family cloud. That’s neat. I do remember that, though … which I can’t say for many nights. And for the record, I do think it’s pretty funny.

Do I miss that? No, but I can appreciate it happened.

So, what do I miss?

I miss the warm feeling of relaxation that I’d look forward to all day. But I don’t miss looking forward to it. I miss drunk dancing at weddings. But I don’t miss embarrassing myself at said weddings. There’s a good chance I was that girl. You know the one, loud, busting into other people’s hotel rooms because they weren’t planning on spending the night? Because Drunk Jenni was going to keep it together this time.

But the dancing was pure girlhood freedom – and I miss that.

I miss Drunk Jenni’s confidence. With that being said, I’ve since found drunk confidence isn’t real, definitely not a real thing. What is real is knowing exactly who I am and being 100% okay with everything that entails… but I still miss the brazen, unhinged things that were said and occurred with the help of that liquid courage.

Vodka.

The kind of drink that felt like a warm blanket. I imagine someone who doesn’t have a problem with alcohol, might think that’s silly, or an exaggeration… because what can feel as good as a nice, fuzzy, cozy blanket?

Vodka. Vodka Gimlets were the warmest for sure.

I really only drank good vodka, if that makes it any better. Unless it was unattainable. But I’d complain the entire time. I miss Vodka, but I don’t miss slipping out of myself, and acting ridiculous. I don’t miss terrible decisions and regret. I don’t miss the constant anxiety and chase for the buzz.

Why can’t Drunk Jenni keep it together? Because as soon as she’d feel perfectly carefree – she’d hurry up and down another drink (or three) just in case the previous ones start to wear off. That’s a problem, yeah? I’m definitely an alcoholic.

I try to convince myself sometimes that maybe I’m not. Maybe I just had an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. Maybe it was just a product of circumstance. Maybe I could moderate now. And then… some girls at work started talking about how cold medicine can really mess you up and the intrusive thought barreled through, full speed ahead…

ARE YOU GOING TO DRINK COLD MEDICINE? ARE YOU GETTING SICK?

And I’m like, ok. Yeah. I’m definitely an alcoholic.

It’s been 1, 290 days since I last drank.  Drunk Jenni was unpredictable – mostly fun, but sometimes messy.

Predictability is pretty wonderful too. And now I get to dance with my daughter in the living room instead of at weddings I don’t remember, and I get to go to bed remembering conversations instead of apologizing for them.