I am not forgetting that a couple of months ago I was totally reckless with you that I put you in jeopardy. All my merrymaking (read: drunkfests) took toll on me but most on you that I was almost diagnosed with uh, that Auto-Immune Hepatitis thingy which I thought was going to change my life forever like, you know, Maggie Murdock in Love and Other Drugs where I’d need a charming caddish guy to nurse me. But thank goodness, no, I didn’t get to that point where I would have to take steroids for a year and risk weight gain and breakouts, or worse, ditch alcohol for the rest of my life to save you.
Not that I take you for granted because what the hell, I don’t even know what exactly your function is, let alone know where to locate you in my mid rib, but you know how people most often choose to learn the hard way. A classic irony.
So the holidays are here again which for us both means one word. For me: overindulgence. While for you: overwork.
You know too well it’s not enough that I overeat but I overdrink as well. I’m not the girl who says no to inuman seshs because
I’m proud to say I’m almost always the last woman standing. When all my friends, if not barfing all over the place, are all wiggly in their toes and are trashtalking and drunktexting, I’m the one who would remember all the shit they’d wish didn’t happen and the one to blame when shitty, destructive photos end up online the morning after.
So this is to say thank you for being one freakin tough liver. You take me just the big drunkie that I am.
New Year parties are yet to come.
Will you stay strong for me? :)