I have a confession. I was so bad yesterday. First I broke my new years resolution of no processed food by eating pita chips and hummus for breakfast. That’s not that bad, you might say. Oh, it gets worse. I ordered wings and waffle fries for lunch, and washed it down with plastic bottle of Gatorade. As I blearily sucked down the blue liquid, I looked at the label and saw that Gatorade’s second ingredient is high fructose corn syrup. The wings came in a styrofoam box, which had leaked spicy buffalo sauce all over the plastic bag. They also came with disposable napkins and plastic utensils. I held myself back from ordering a coke with it, but caved later and helped myself to Vicki’s ginger ale.
How did this happen? How did I go from extolling the virtues of the farmers market, from avowing to avoid processed foods and secretly judging anyone who didn’t follow my example, to paying money for such grossness? I feel like such a hypocrite. Well, I’ll tell you why.
Ugh, I was so hung over. Somehow when your stomach is berating you for staying out until 3:30 in the morning, and asking you why you agreed to that tequila shot, it refuses to accept the idea of a fruit smoothie, peanut butter and apple slices, or basically anything from nature. All it wants are refined carbs that have been mixed with sugar and packaged up into bite size morsels. It wants grease, and with no bacon left in the house, and a rebellious tummy, I ordered in.
Why is it that when our stomach is this vulnerable, it demands stuff that isn’t good for it? I have no idea. What I do know is that yesterday made me rethink my whole stance on drinking.
It’s not like I set out to get toasted. I actually promised myself I would drink the beer slowly. But a birthday party at the bowling alley turned into a late night at the bar, and I found myself dancing and drinking and laughing and drinking some more. It used to be that after nights like this, I would stumble out of my dorm room in a perfect euphoria. A little light headed and loopy, but my stomach wouldn’t feel bad, and my head would be pain free. Not. Any. More. I’m an old lady now.
Alcohol seems to be the antithesis of organic anyway. Oh sure, they have organic vodka and wine and gin. But the whole point of eating organic is having faith that in the long run, your body will function at least slightly better than if you had sustained yourself on soda and microwave meals. As for alcohol, it can ruin your ability to function in less than an hour, much less years down the road. So how does that jive with my philosophy of treating my body well? And let’s face it, Turtle Bay was not serving organic alcohol. (I don’t care how nice Patrone is, it still makes me gag.)
So what do I do moving forward? I still don’t know. I love the fun that comes with drinking with friends. I like having wine with dinner, proposing a toast over shots, and clinking beer glasses with friends. In college, the best times were had over drinking Jenga and beer pong. But I hate the way it ruins my life for a day. In one 24 hour period, I missed touch football, I added a pound to my waistline, and I definitely didn’t make it to yoga. And now I have leftover wings sitting in my fridge I don’t want and a full trash can of unrecyclables.
Any thoughts? How do you solve the drinking problem if you are trying to be kind to your body and the earth? Is there a compromise? Or should I just give it up and join my boyfriend in No Alcohol Land?