Dear Hungover Me,

Wow, you were asleep for awhile, I thought you’d gone to meet Jesus or Tupac. Welcome to your hangover! Don’t worry, I lowered the blinds because I know the sunlight is too much for you when you’re wallowing in regret. Settle in because we’re going to be here for a while. How was Cinco de…what was it? Mayo? No, that’s what you put on sandwiches. Cinco de Drinko? That sounds about right. And what’s that bean burrito doing under the covers? You sure know how to pick ‘em.

Let’s get out of bed and see where the day takes you. Your calendar’s not cleared, but thanks to that fifth shot of tequila last night, adulting will have to wait. Standing up should be fun. Whoa there, steady ol’ girl. The floor’s not as close as it appears. You used to have your head on straight, now it’s just swimming in your bad decisions and playing tricks on your eyes. But we both know the mirror won’t lie — let’s go see what it has to say.

Just flick on the bathroom light, and…there you are. That’s right. Look glory full in the face. Gaze upon thyself. Flawless. You woke up like this. Beyonce would be proud of you — but what’s that stuck in your hair? Someone’s gum? A stray piece of confetti? Please, Lord, let it be one of the latter. And I see you passed out with a full face of makeup, too. I bet your pores are thrilled. Your cat eye definitely took a turn for the worse; the dumpster raccoons would accept you as one of their own now. Save yourself: Don’t even look at the toilet. You might hurl again. Let’s pay attention to more important matters, like how your mouth is drier than your grandma’s meatloaf. Good thing I left you a full glass of water and half a banana nut muffin on the kitchen counter before you went out last night (you’re welcome, my child. You’re welcome).[/cs_text]

The kitchen is so close, you just have to make it past the couch for that H2 … OH GOD. STOP. Who’s that on the chaise lounge? Looks like you already drank that tall glass of water. Or did you? What’s his name? Of course, you don’t remember. What are you doing? Stop thinking so loud, he’ll hear you. His cologne won’t give you any clues either; that ship sailed hours ago. Now he reeks of mixed drinks and Mexican cigars. But you don’t care; the mysterious stranger is wrapped in your favorite wool afghan and has suspicious nut muffin crumbs on his face. How could you miss the real problem here?

Whatever. Your woozy curiosity has turned to bitterness. That guy’s no friend of ours (R.I.P. banana nut muffin). Better call an Uber and get rid of the evidence. And while you’re at it, you can hitch a ride to the grocery store. Food is always more important than booze, so food money > booze money, right? No, your math is terrible. Just ask your checking account, which is seriously dwindling after the fifth of May. Are all the bar tabs coming back to you now? No, that’s not an optical illusion. You did in fact purchase three rounds of watermelon-flavored shots. And let’s not forget the multiple orders of nachos, quesadillas and that flight of different types of guacamole and salsa (which bar did you even get that from?). Did you really pay a guy $20 to let a 10-pound parrot sit on your arm outside a pub? You know parrots don’t have anything to do with Cinco de Mayo, right? I doubt the bird was amused, but I’m sure you were. Don’t even look at the margarita charges. But wait, there’s more. What’s that in your pocket? A crumpled dollar store receipt for a cheap sombrero and plastic mustache? Come on … cultural appropriation is not a good look. You and your bank account have seen better days.

You’ve survived the horror that is your billing statement, so why not relive some of the awesome memories from last night? Dang, that’s a ton of Instagram notifications. Cara tagged you in 23 photos? This ought to be good. After all, you looked super cute last night — for awhile. The new flower crown and crop top were great choices, while you were sober. Yeah, better not add some of these to your timeline. Wouldn’t want Aunt Jody to see you looking this grody (she’s always been a prude). Wow, these snaps go a bit beyond embarrassing. These are pretty incriminating. What were you thinking? There’s a line, you know. It’s between having a few margaritas and running amok in the street after ten shots of tequila. It’s pretty hard to miss, but drunk you seemed to just throw caution to the wind. And your friends got it on camera, and now you’re a social media star in your small circle.

Maybe someday you’ll do some damage control. Maybe someday you’ll learn your limit and not give yourself so much grief. But it is not this day. This is the day the hangover has made. And you will not rejoice or be glad in it, either. Yep, time to go back to bed. Goodnight, hungover me. Better luck tomorrow.

Sometimes alcohol can get the better of us. But if crazy nights out have turned into something worse, you’re not alone. Our team of experts at The Recovery Village can help you get back on the right path. Reaching out is the first step.

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