dry february

I’m a lil hungover as I write this. The after glow of my drinking is not extreme--like my internal organs went on strike, picketing against the unfair treatment they endured during the fiesta that took place within my stomach last night. It’s more like the slow pickling of my brain in a salty brine of self-doubt. How did I behave last night?

Thus, in the wee hours of this morning (as I was pleasantly surprised that my mind could formulate coherent thoughts), I decided to embark on an experience I have never tried before: Dry February.

Not because February is the shortest month of the year (though that is definitely an added bonus) but because it begins in three days’ time. Hell, I’ll just start today! (While the thought of a beverage makes the waves in my stomach roll, I am choosing to start now because I am a committed human. When a decision is made, I am all in.)

No sooner than I had voiced my intention to both the Universe and this blog, did I realize a teensy hiccup in my plan: My husband and I are scheduled for a weekend away in Palm Desert on February 2nd. Oops! I would normally celebrate a weekend adventure by indulging in a few beverages, however, this presents an opportunity to lean into self-discovery. Do I need a few drinks to have fun? Can I enjoy an evening without a little lubrication?

Actually, I’m curious about a number of potential upsides:

• Will I sleep better?
• Will I have more energy?
• Will I lose some weight?
• Will I feel pressure when others are drinking in my presence?
• Will my social anxiety become quieter?

The more I ponder, the more Dry February seems like a great idea! As the fog of last night’s beveraging wears off, my excitement and willingness to embrace this challenge is growing. I pause to congratulate myself on this choice and glance up from my keyboard to the calendar hanging on the wall.

This February is a leap year.
​
Fuck.