I Didn’t Drink for One Week Due to Medication, and That Makes Me Better Than You

Last week I went stone cold sober for 168 long hours. For those cultured few, that’s 41 hours longer than that one guy who was stuck in a rock, but twice as torturous than what he had to endure. There are many reasons that someone lovingly dubbed a semi-functional alcoholic would become a fucking boner. You know, things like health, happiness, being financially responsible, etc. I, unfortunately, am none of those things. However, after a trip to the doctor and 7 days’ worth of pills to cure a raging UTI, I got to pretend like I was. And it was the greatest week of my life.

There’s a certain rush you get when you subtly imply that you are better than someone. Your nose raises a little higher, the corners of your mouth curl into a little smirk, and your eyes narrow in on the victims fidgeting as they struggle to understand why, unlike you, they don’t win at life. Does it matter that I am only making my choices based on not actually having no choice at all? Absolutely not. Because, as you might have guessed, I am not at all truthful about anything.

According to my friends, family and co-workers, I am not treating an infection of the nethers, I am “exploring a journey to better myself” or another obnoxious phrase. I’m fine with an iced tea, because even though summer is over, I believe that summer bodies are achievable year-round… with a little discipline. I guess I will turn down a lunch time happy hour, since I am more focused on getting a promotion than my coworkers seem to be. A night out on the town? No thanks, I’d actually like the ability to afford a home of my own someday. Have you ever seen the look on someone’s face when you turn down bottomless brunch in favor of having a productive Sunday? Of course you haven’t, but it is priceless.

It’s crazy to think that most of the people I know hate me now, and that it only took a week, but I guess people are just jealous of what they can’t achieve themselves.

After this experience, I can honestly say that my soul is closer to achieving Nirvana. Not only have I managed to lose three entire pounds, most of which being the lack of bloating in my face after a particularly heinous girls only wine night, but I managed to do so while making everyone around me brutally aware of their own fat faces. After all, as Buddha once said, “true happiness can only be achieved when everyone else around you is miserable.” After all, why would I go through the trouble of hoisting myself up when I could conveniently use my friends’ backs as stepping stools?

I think the most important take away from this is that if I lacked the motivation to go on an alcohol cleanse by my own discipline before, I definitely can now… sometime in the future. You know, now that a better goal than just “giving my dying liver a break.” Will I? Possibly, after the holidays. But then again, I’m never one to pass up a good old-fashioned sangria season. The point to focus on is that I did it. And you what? Cheers, I’ll drink to that.

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