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In about a month, I’ll be 25 years old. And my body knows it. Now, there’s nothing worse than somebody in their twenties moaning and groaning about how “old” they are, but honestly, something changes when you reach a certain age. For me, it’s my body’s ability to accept, process, and digest alcohol.
I was warned that this would happen. I remember friends who were a few years older than me telling me while I was in college that I wouldn’t be able to drink like that forever. I shrugged them off–I was a sunshine girl! I’d wake up at 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning, spring out of bed, and make my way to the library for a very productive headache-free day.
A few months ago, things started to change. As my body started to realize I was reaching my “mids” it began to reject even the smallest amounts of booze! After a night of only three drinks (okay, maybe four…or was it five?) I’d find myself doubled over the toilet the entire following Saturday, cursing the Bourbon Lemonades which had landed me there.
I suppose I could drink less. Or quit drinking altogether. I suppose I could just be more diligent, drink more water, not mix alcohol…
Or, I can grow up, learn to be an adult, and accept the hardships as they come: take my struggles in stride, and work through the pain!
That’s the mature route to take, right?