One Shot, Two Shot, Three Shot

Fourth, fifth, sixth…

My 23rd birthday was this weekend. I went out to get drunk, since I haven’t been drunk in awhile. Months, actually. I think I overdid it just a smidge.

The day was spent getting lunch, and pants shopping. Over the past month all my pants have gotten increasingly tight on me, and I am just sick of doing the jump-tug to get my fucking pants on. And then if I dare eat, I have to unbutton them because heaven knows, even without eating I can barely zip and button them.

I went from 100lbs to 118.5lbs in a matter of a month and a half. I’m okay with that- nobody can even tell I’ve gained weight. Except me. My damn pants don’t fit! So anyway, I bought two new pairs on my birthday- and holy cow! They fit!

A size 0-1 to a 5, but I’m okay with that. I mean, hey it’s just a size. What sucks is having to buy an entire new wardrobe from the waist down. Not that I don’t like shopping, I just can’t afford it right now.

So yeah. Then after that, I went home, showered, and went over to my brother’s. We went to see his friend fight. I’ve never been to an MMA fight before, but it was a lot of fun! I’m glad I’ve gone now, and hopefully get the chance to go again sometime.

My brother asked me if it made me wanna fight, and I’m like uh…no…and he’s like oh really? It always makes everyone wanna fight and to do right what the fighter did wrong. I just laughed, and said I don’t know what they did wrong. I mean, I like MMA, I just don’t know the rules, blah blah. Like, I get it- when you’re the one fighting, or whatever it is you’re doing, you’re not necessarily going to do everything a bystander thinks you should. And that bystander has been in situations, I’m sure, where they fucked up a little themselves.

Then after the fights, I met up with my friends at my bar. And I don’t drink vodka- my body cannot handle vodka. But I figured, hey what the fuck. I’ll do it tonight. So, from 11pm-2:45am I had 8 shots and 4-6 vodka lemonades. And then I promptly passed out.

I woke up in my friend’s bed, and I’m like um…I don’t know how I got here. Then I spent all Sunday sleeping off and on, and feeling very pukey. It was dreadful. I could name a few reasons about why my hangover lasted so long, or I could simply be honest and say the truth: I really don’t handle vodka well…my body simply rebels violently at so much alcohol, and I regret it.

I really cannot believe I had 8 shots AND so much vodka. That’s a fucking lot of alcohol for me. I am a light weight- 5 beers gets me tipsy. And not to mention vodka- damn, that shit can get me fucked up in two drinks (glasses). But my friends all said I was very happy and go lucky. I’m typically pretty reserved, so one of my friend’s said it was nice seeing me so bubbly and talking to everyone.

Yeah it wasn’t her who woke up dehydrated and felt like shit.

But oh well. Everyone said I did my birthday right. And I guess it makes up for being totally sober on my 21st birthday. Well I’d had a few drinks, but I had to get up early to take my friend to the airport.

Anyway. Birthday done. Me, drunk, no. Not for a long time.


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