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Dry January, And Beyond…
Buh-bye, alcohol.
Yep, I jumped on the #DryJanuary bandwagon! So cliché, but I was so ready. I had a whole diet plan thingy too, of course. I mean, New Year, New You, and all.
My history with alcohol is sordid. My parents had a liquor cabinet in the basement, filled with every possible spirit you could imagine. At least it felt that way when I was in fifth grade, as I filled up a Diet Rite bottle with just a little bit from every bottle, so my parents wouldn’t notice anything missing.
And I drank it. I remember it so clearly I can almost taste it. Needless to say, it was awful. After I finished the whole bottle, I threw up. But I liked how it made me feel, that concocted cocktail. I’ve heard it said that addicts can typically recall with precision the very first time they got stoned/drunk/high. Yep.
I also remember chugging out of my mom’s can of Old Style on a summer day, like it was this afternoon. My love of beer started that moment. Not sure how old I was, but it was way before fifth grade.
The next time I remember getting really drunk was at my 8th grade graduation party. It was my sister’s high school graduation party, too, and there was a keg of beer (for her friends, I assume). That was pretty sweet.
