Order and Chaos, Yin and Yang, Darkness and Light, Felix and Oscar—everything has an equal and opposite force. Skinny Girl Margarita is no exception. Over the past six months, SGM has brought me much happiness, and I have chronicled my fondness of her all natural ingredients, her low calorie demeanor, and her tantalizing elusiveness. But I would be remiss if I did not mention her dark side.
After the initial six-bottle order I placed to Supplier Steve, I back-ordered 12 more bottles; like a survivalist hoarding gallons of purified water and pallets of generic canned goods. Reducing my precious stock was serious business, but when I decided to take a much-needed fall vacation, I did not hesitate to grab three bottles of SGM to take with me. For the record, I was not going on vacation alone. Several friends and family members were also enjoying a few days off. One bottle was intended as a hostess gift, the other two were for communal cocktails. However, nary a drop got communed. Yes, I and I alone drank an entire bottle before we left the house. After hydrating and rehydrating myself throughout the four-hour journey to our respite destination, I felt comfortable opening the second bottle upon arrival. So, I did. I drank that bottle, then things get fuzzy…I know I hid the hostess gift…I found that one two days later in the condo dryer.
I awoke to a bamboo bedspread beside me, face down in the lime carpet. When I opened my eyes, I could see. Shit…still had my contacts in, and they were piercing to my corneas. The clothes I had worn for the trip were still on (Thank you, baby Jesus), and my head was pounding. I crawled to the bathroom, just in time. I began my vomitis marathon at that moment not knowing that it would last a full 8 hours. During the first break in heaving, I managed to peel the contacts from my eyes--one minuscule strip at a time, then stumble to the bed and fall on it. Items in the room were spinning, whether my eyelids were opened or closed. How can one be drunk and hung-over at the same time? Curse you, Skinny Girl Margarita! I crawled from the bed to the bathroom all day.
It wasn’t until that I forced myself to take a shower, and started to feel a little better. I took little comfort in knowing I had probably just lost ten pounds, given that the weight was mostly comprised of tissue that once lined my stomach. Emerging from the bedroom with trepidation to face my family and friends, I delivered the dreaded Hangover Soliloquy:
“If I offended anyone, I am so sorry. If I made fun of your fashion sense, culture, religion, socio-economic level, disability, sexual orientation, or your children, your choice of mates, or your pets…I didn’t mean it. If I assigned individual, derogatory rap names to you, your children, or your pets, I apologize. If I told you I loved you, it was meant in the same context as “love thy neighbor.” Furthermore, if I ran the blender without the top on it, and/or danced on the coffee table without my top on, please forgive me. Lastly, if I revealed any secrets you have told me in the past or announced any of my own indiscretions; please erase them from your memories.”
I learned by rote this act of contrition during my undergraduate, over-indulging days. I was surprised it came out fluently and monotone, for it had been 20 plus years since I used it on a regular basis. My fellow vacationers were kind…a least to my face. I heard bits and pieces of what I said and did. Apparently, I told some good jokes and performed some acrobatic tricks that wowed several observers.
Skinny Girl and I took a break from our exclusive relationship after the embarrassing, near death experience she caused. I now possess the same level of respect for SGM as I do for firearms. You don’t play around with either, lest you risk being killed or at least you’ll wish you were dead. I still love and partake of SGM, I just do so with caution. Moderation is imperative. Remember, Her Dark Side Is Your Blackout!
A. Ballerina
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