I gave up alcohol for Lent.
(I KNOW!! Alcohol AND Toolbag Tuesday!!! My life has no more meaning.)
I gave it up to lose weight before my first summer living back on the beach, but my plan is backfiring because now I’m craving nothing but sugar.
People told me that I’d crave sugar because alcohol has so much sugar and my body is dependent on it. (WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME AN ALCOHOLIC!?!!?!)
I didn’t believe them, of course, until day 14 when I started acting like the cockroach in the movie Men in Black who climbs out of the big hole and is like, “SUGAR.”
ALL THE SUGAR.
This was on display most prominently at a birthday party last weekend when I ate three entire cupcakes.
In a row.
Yes, while everyone else was getting drunk, I was lurking like the fat kid at the birthday cake table, shoveling cupcakes into my mouth.
The third cupcake I even cut in half to pretend I didn’t need to eat the whole thing, but because no one was looking anyway, I ate the other half less than two minutes later.
Okay, less than one minute later.
In my defense, there were a million cupcakes. I didn’t steal anyone else’s cupcake, OK?? (fat kid.)
And they were salted caramel cupcakes, which I have decided is my new favorite flavor of anything and everything.
It's such an odd feeling — craving sweets — since I’m more of a salty
I hardly recognized myself when I actually bought Ben and Jerry's SALTED CARAMEL ice cream at the grocery store last week.
I never buy ice cream! Never!
I’m surprised my credit card didn’t red flag the purchase.
"Hmmm, no…that’s doesn’t seem right. No wine? No Nacho Cheese Doritos? Ask her to verify her social security number!!”
Not drinking is exactly what you’d expect: Not as fun.
Maybe that’s because I’m still going out to bars and doing social things, drinking soda water with limes (“Can you put it in a glass that makes it LOOK alcoholic?”)
And, if I’m desperate, a non-alcoholic beer, which at most bars is God-awful piss.
Sure, waking up the next morning NOT hungover is glorious, and so are my $3 bar tabs.
And it’s nice being able to drive home at the end of the night (I’m the D.D. for the next month) rather than having to pay for a cab.
But there comes a point around midnight where not being drunk is just…a bummer.
Take last Saturday, when I thought this one guy was giving me EYES at a bar. Every time I walked by him, I saw him look at me, almost in a way that he was looking for me to recognize him.
So I gathered my best pickup line and approached him.
“Hey…do we know each other?” I asked.
“OHshtuehrtyertsdf sdefhducolschoodfslftl togsethr,” he slurred.
“What?” I tried to make out the jibberish. “We…went to school together?”
“Ok,” I said. “Great.”
No, he was not making eyes at me.
He was trying to focus on the wall.
Another bummer is telling people that I gave up alcohol for Lent, because they think I’m religious or something.
New Orleans is a big Catholic town, and giving up something for Lent is not a big deal.
In fact, it's a bigger deal if you DON'T give up something (pizza, mac n cheese, popcorn, etc.)
But that's not the case in South Carolina, with its influx of Presbyterians and Methodists.
“What are you, Catholic??” is always the first question I get after explaining why I'm going to make MINE a root beer.
“Well, I was raised Catholic…” I say. “But this is just a good time frame,” I say. “It’s an excuse to give up something for 40 days, you know?”
No, they don’t know.
“I just don’t understand why you have to give something up….for God,” one guy said.
“Jesus,” I corrected.
Once I’m done explaining to people that this is a practice of self-control and why not? I’ll save money! I’ll learn to enjoy life without beer goggles!...all I want is a shot of Fireball.
Or a glass of water with an exorbant amount of Crystal Light orange flavoring that I pretend is Tang, and scoop the residual sugar off the bottom of the glass with a spoon.
26 days to go…