The Hangover

The other night five friends and I had a Mom’s Night Out.

I drank a few Blue Moons. It was karaoke night.

I didn’t sing, and I didn’t go crazy.

I thought about it, but ultimately I left the karaoke to the college kids, and the craziness to the ladies in the booth next to us.

The ladies were there with their boyfriends,or husbands, but they were full on making out with each other. For a good five minutes.

They were seriously going at it, but their boyfriends/husbands didn’t seem to mind one bit.

Now those two chicks were completely shitfaced.

Wasted.

So the next morning, when I woke up and felt like I got run over by a semi, it wasn’t from a hangover, as some people may have assumed.

I was sick.

Those two making out ladies probably couldn’t say the same thing. I’m sure they were hurting.

But my totally shitfaced days are over.

And this is why.

I can tell you the exact date of my last hangover.

A hangover which knocked me on my ass, leaving me  feeling like I was on the verge of death.

It was on July 6th, 2008.

On July 4th, 2008, I had a miscarriage.

I was only about 8 weeks pregnant, and I ran a 5 mile, 4th of July race.

I was 37 at the time, and I had been running for a few months, and my gynecologist said I was okay to run in the race.

I ran the race no problem.

Later that night the cramping started.

I went to the bathroom and saw blood.

Lots of it.

I was devastated.

The next day I went to a party with my family.

It was a birthday party for a kid, but then at night, the kid party turned into an adult party.

The ping pong table turned into a beer pong table.

Now let me tell you something about beer pong.

I’m good at it.

Like really good at it.

Yesterday I saw a list of the 20 Most Fun Colleges in America posted by one of my friends on Facebook.

I went to Lehigh, which was number 12 on that list.

Lehigh has about 4000 fraternities, and those fraternities have a lot of parties. At least they did back when I went there.

And that is where I learned to perfect my beer pong game.

So when my husband took the kids home, I partnered up with my friend’s husband, and we played some beer pong.

We won the first game.

And the second.

And the third…

I think I played about 12 consecutive games.

I drowned all my emotions from that miscarriage in beer.

Until I couldn’t feel anything at all.

By the time I got home, I was a total mess.

I got down on my hands and knees and puked my guts out on the front lawn before I went inside and passed out on the couch.

The next day, I was completely useless.

My husband was beyond upset with me.

I don’t blame him.

And so, in the late afternoon of  July 6, 2008, when I was finally able to sit up and form coherent sentences again, I promised him that I would never drink to that point, or anywhere near it, again.

And I haven’t.

Yes, I still like a Blue Moon.

Or three.

It may have taken me a few years longer than most people, but now I know better.

Being really, really sad is definitely no fun.

But being really, really sad and so hungover that you have turned yourself into a non-functioning member of society?

Well, that just totally sucks.

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