An Open Letter to My Body, the Traitor

Posted by on February 15, 2009

Dear Body,

Happy belated Valentine’s Day. Yes, I was being facetious. You know I don’t subscribe to made-up holidays that leave at least half the population sad and depressed that they don’t have someone to give them some Hallmark-mandated love and a red velvet box of chocolates from the local Walgreens. I prefer my consumerism-on-steroids holidays to at least be FUN, like Halloween!

Anyway, I’m writing to let you know that I’m very disappointed in you today. No, it’s not that last eight pounds I’ve been trying to lose for, like, two years—although we do need to discuss that at some point. I’m actually talking about the hangover that you led me to believe I would NOT be having today. What the hell?

I know, I know…I don’t take you out drinking nearly enough and you’re probably not used to it but that’s no excuse for your behavior today. You had fair warning that when we went out to celebrate the huz’s birthday last night (it was fun, yes?) that it would be a late night. Christ, we had safe, dependable babysitters for the first time in three years (Thank you, MIL and SIL!) that would be keeping our kids overnight. What did you think I was going to do? Drink soda all night?

All things considered, I think I did pretty good. I took a sip of my first beer at 9pm and finished my last around 2:45am. All together, I probably consumed about four or five high quality beers AND I had some pizza. (Yes, I agree that it was ridiculously salty but I was powerless to stop. You know how hungry I get when I drink). Anyway, the point is that I really didn’t go overboard and I don’t think I abused you that badly. In fact, I observed last night, firsthand, what long term alcohol abuse can do to a body and I’m so glad I got married and stopped clubbing and partying in my mid twenties. I could seriously be a poster girl for the virtues of generally clean, albeit mostly exercise-free, living.

But I digress…What I wanted to know is WHY did you lead me to believe this morning that I had escaped the hangover I was fully expecting? Even my prim, proper and very Catholic mother-in-law remarked that we didn’t look hungover when she brought the kids home at noon (NOON!!! God bless that woman!) and other than being a bit fuzzy-headed, I felt great. I didn’t begin to feel betrayed by you until about 3pm when the headache and queasy stomach started to kick in. Eventually, I felt so crappy I had to take to my bed for several hours whilst the huz went to the grocery store, fed the kids AND took them out for ice cream. He’s a fricken rockstar dad and I’m the pathetic mom that’s still hungover at six in the evening.


Don’t you know how damaging this was to my self-esteem? How loser-ish it made me feel?

I just don’t understand and I anxiously await your explanation.

Yours in suffering,

PS: And the for the love of all things good and decent…what’s UP with the gas? Haven’t you punished me enough already? Is further humiliation really necessary?


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