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My Hangovers Are Only Getting Worse And One Day They Will Literally Kill Me

My Hangovers Are Only Getting Worse And One Day They Will Literally Kill Me

Currently, I’m in bed in an oversized college sweatshirt, disheveled and smelling of the Whataburger HBCB I just inhaled while lying here. The back of my tongue is still Cabernet Sauvignon-purple, and when I attempted to brush my teeth earlier, I almost puked. I’m in a fragile and sensitive state.

That’s right. I’m hungover. We have all been here before, reporting live from the gutter. I chugged a Tyrion Lannister-amount of vino last night and woke up this morning with my mouth tasting of death and my brain fighting to break out of my own skull. I want to wear sunglasses indoors and put on noise-cancelling headphones. This is not something I’m proud of, it’s just my reality.

Gone are the days of undergrad binge drinking, where I could go out on a Tuesday night, get absolutely plastered on $1 shots, carried home, and still make it to my 9:30 a.m. ConLaw class. My body could bounce back within hours. I used to go out probably four times a week during college. Somehow, my body was physically capable of morphing overnight, and I woke up bright-eyed and ready to take on the day every time. I used to be able to pull the ol’ “puke and rally,” and still remain standing.

That is not the story anymore. I’m washed up. It’s gotten to the point where if I knock back 3 IPAs in an evening, I’m going to wake up the following morning dehydrated with a mild headache. What has happened to me? I used to be able to drink actual Everclear punch and not die. Now I can’t even chill at home with a couple vodka-sodas without waking up feeling shitty. And you can forget day drinking. That used to bring me such joy. Putting down some ice cold brews on a patio while the sun is beating down is one of the best summer activities you can engage in. Now, if I attempt to day drink, it’s guaranteed I’m hungover by 9 p.m. Albeit, it’s a risk I’m willing to take, but I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that as I am getting older, these hangovers are getting so much worse.

Within the past six months, I’ve experienced two-day hangovers multiple times. I’ve been unable to eat until 4:00 in the afternoon because I was so nauseous after going too hard in the paint the night before. I’ve sat at brunch with shaking hands, trying to chug a Bloody just to get myself back to neutral. I’ve thrown up until 7 p.m. the next day, just trying to ride the wave to survival while watching Arrested Development with bloodshot eyes. I’ve even stopped at a Chili’s during a horrifically hungover road trip to drink two more glasses of wine and eat a molten chocolate cake at the bar – solo. I’ve been low, so low, and it’s because these hangovers keep upping the ante on me.

At the ripe old age of 23, I don’t think this should be happening yet. I feel like maybe that whole SEC-undergrad thing was a mistake. Did I put on too much party-mileage too quickly? Am I running out of time to be able to drink inappropriately and irresponsibly? Will these hangovers just continue to get more excruciating until I physically die? Is anybody listening to me?

I don’t want to stop acting like human trash; I’m not ready to accept my fate as a real adult. I want to keep drinking Mexican martinis at El Tiempo until I start doing the “Hotline Bling” dance in public. I want to continue to inhale Moscow Mules out of copper mugs and repeatedly pay to hear “Sweet Caroline” played at the piano bar. I can only hope that my antics won’t result in me literally dying from a hangover. That would be the ultimate post-grad problem.

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Taylor

Texas native and Alabama grad with a Drake problem. Going to law school, but don't tell my future employers you saw me here.

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