Dry January

I’d just finished my last tequila seltzer. The ground was being gently tucked in by a soft blanket of snow. It's so quiet and peaceful this time of night, especially being home on the island instead of the city for once. The streetlights danced as the flurries made their long and silent journey to the blacktop below. I hadn’t seen snow-fall in a while. I used to love the way my nose would get runny and my breath would feel hollow. Life gets all the more beautiful when you remind yourself that this is the only time you get to live this moment. I'm sure this would be a beautiful time for a mental picture, but unfortunately it's 3am; Im wearing 6 inch heels (which I convinced myself I needed for tonight), a sparkly cocktail dress that itches in all the worst places and shows all the right places (I look great by the way), no jacket, a tangled mess of blonde extensions, and mascara stained cheeks because I pulled an “Irish-goodbye” to all my friends as soon as the ball dropped to go find my High School ex-boyfriend in a bar just around the corner from my house. The only sound Ive heard for the past half mile is intermittent sobs and the chattering of my teeth. The new year was not off to a great start learning that he and his new girlfriend are very happy together and thrilled to begin bettering themselves by participating in “Dry January.” 

That last tequila seltzer working overtime as a therapist, coat, and confidence booster as I hike my 2024 self all the way back to my childhood home. I am way past the “This is the best night of my life!” drunk and full fledged hiccups and Uber-ing myself taco bell drunk. Dry January *pfft. Who’s this broad John wants to be all “perfect man” for? Sacrificing great nights for the slightly younger version of me… embarrassing. Same blonde hair, light eyes, fierce eyebrows, and I hate to admit it, mini me had a better rack on her. After sitting and listening to her sobering outlook on health and a clean lifestyle, I couldn’t believe he had landed himself a breaking amish woman all the way from the prairie. I know he misses the constant arguing, drunk mistakes, on again off again drama. He’s lucky she's even allowed to show off her ankles. 

That last tequila seltzer starts aging more like the oat-milk in the back of my fridge. This is about the time of the walk that my brain starts telling me, “Lottie… the only way out of this is to unleash your demons on the front lawn of that quaint family home.” My new year's resolution is to trust my instincts more so of course i'm going to take my own advice. I'll just tell you that the 4 tequila seltzers, 6 jello shots, and one spontaneous corona with a lime, definitely do not taste any better coming back up. In another half hour the snow will cover the remnants of tonight's regret on this family's home. I can only hope they don't have a ring camera because that would be both horrifying and humiliating to see on TikTok tomorrow. What makes John and little miss perky boobs think that Dry January is supposed to make world peace and puppy-unicorns?

That last tequila seltzer is my first regret of 2024. Waking up just 5 hours later on my living room couch at 7am to my dogs lurking at the hot mess of human I am. I reek of the beach club I started at with my dear friends and also the sweat and tears of my journey home. The itchy dress had taken a vacation from the places it should be covering and is somehow around my neck like a necklace. Still definitely drunk, and entirely not ready to start the day, I manage to find my way, naked and afraid, into my bed until I'm prepared to face 2024. But something in me couldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about how different my day would have started if I challenged myself to this Dry January. Little house on the prairie last night did have some truthful things to say. It's not just about being sober, it's about testing your limits. 

Or as the breaking amish said, “Fresh starts have no limits, take a deep breath and tell yourself reset.” In her fairy princess voice. 

That last tequila seltzer implemented in me a new testament. Today, I will pay for yesterday's decisions. But I will also learn from them (most likely the hard way). I tossed and turned for a few hours, still spinning, thinking of all the different ways to better myself for this Dry January. It was until I was rudely interrupted by that voice in my head telling me “Lottie you better shower and get rid of the rest of that tequila seltzer,” that I pulled myself out of bed to start my 2024. I wasn't afraid to regret today. I challenged myself to live out my Dry January better than Sally Sunshine and John who clearly is still in love with me. I don't need alcohol to prove that I am charming and talented, I need my own clarity. I am capable of discipline and respect for my body.

Underneath my first tequila seltzer I had used to pregame was my journal. At the top of a fresh page, I write “Charlotte's Dry January.” For three pages I go on to list my goals and aspirations for this journey I would partake in for the next 30 days. In just 3 more days I would be heading back to the city to live on my own again. I am confident I will not let myself down. Just as I finish the final sentence, that voice in my head creeps back to tell me, “Lottie, you'd better head to the bathroom before you do let yourself down.” It’s a good thing January 1st is an international holiday, otherwise today would’ve counted.