I really like drinking beer. I like drinking beer and socializing with my friends. I’ve been doing it for years. I’ve happily bellied up to many dive bars over the years and downed countless pints. I enjoy clinking mugs to celebrate happy occasions and to forget bad days. Almost anything is more fun with a beer, particularly a delicious craft beer like a Bells Two Hearted Ale.

Wait. That sounds like I’m alcoholic, which I’m not. No, seriously guys, I’m not an alcoholic. SERIOUSLY. Look at my liver. It’ll tell you. This is totally about something else (but I do like Two Hearted).

I am, however, aging. The older I get, the harder it hits me the day after I drink.

We camped this weekend with the usual suspects. This always involves mass quantities of beer consumed over long periods of time. Let me tell you what, that shit knocked me on my ass. Not only did I sleep almost the entire way home, but I took a long, lazy Sunday nap when I got home. And went to bed early. And slept for ten hours that night. What. The. Fuck?

Maybe it’s my crazy meds, but I really just can’t do it like I used to. When I student taught in Germany, I literally stayed out all night once, took a disco nap on my German friend’s couch, came home while my roommates were getting ready for work, showered booze and smoke off me, taught a full day, got observed by my professor visiting from Truman, AND got an awesome evaluation. I mean, I was at the top of my drinking game. I probably went out the next night and made out with a soldier for all I know (strictly to help fight terrorism, of course). While I was teaching, I used to go out on weeknights all the time with minimal negative effect on my ability to function. I’d just down some coffee, possibly drink some life juice, and get on with my life.

Now, I’m a fucking lame old lady. I mean, sometimes I have a headache the next day when I have TWO BEERS.  What the hell is that? What they don’t tell you about Cymbalta is those sadness commercials?  These ones?

What those people are really depressed about is the fact that Cymbalta makes it so you can’t drink like a champ any more. Plus there are those pesky side effects.

I can’t get off the couch when I have a hangover. Productivity? I did the laundry on Sunday and felt like I triumphantly cured cancer. I just can’t live like that. It’s just not healthy for me. I have way too many cool things I want to do. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen almost every episode of SVU and if I keep having hangovers I might start watching CSI or something really worthless and that’s like committing pop culture suicide.

So pour one out for my binge drinking career. I suppose it’s time I learned to drink in moderation or <gasp> not at all. I’m officially lame; I’m sure you’ll tell me in the comments. My karaoke will probably suffer. I’m sorry, Ali Baba. I’ll surely retire from ironically dancing with glowsticks at weddings and around campfires. I will undoubtedly have more tact and be less funny and will feel awkward even more than I already do. GOOD TIMES. This doesn’t mean I’m not going to drink. I just won’t view every social occasion as an opportunity to get lit and I can appreciate the quality of beer instead of the quantity.

Annnnnnnnd, start mocking comments…….NOW.

Other good news is that today I start back on Cymbalta.  SUCK IT, UNITED HEALTH CARE.  I’ve got your shiny, expensive pills in my paws and there’s nothing you can do about it.  Well, I guess there is, but hopefully you’ve got bigger fish to fry, you fucking assholes. I’ve not felt better in the last year than when I was on Cymbalta before, so hopefully this is step one on the path to emotional stability.

Another things I’ve been doing is tracking what I eat. I will never be someone who measures out their food, nor will I ever be someone who eschews the glory of butter, cream, or full-fat cheese. I love great food too much. However, I do have to moderate what I’m eating and not gulp insane portions. I’ve been using MyFitnessPal, because it’s a simple way to record your food and exercise so you can see the math behind what you need to do. It’s been helping me stop taking chugs from the glass bottle of cream in the fridge and motivated me to two pieces of pizza instead of “my half”. Tonight, I’m going out to eat with my Food Blog Mafia friends at Eclipse, and so I’m going to eat lighter during the day.  God, moderation is boring, but I am feeling so much better already. Oh, I don’t really take chugs of cream.  Gross.

Outside of physical fitness, I have some other things I’m doing to try to get my life in healthier shape.  For example, I’m trying to tie up loose ends or address little situations immediately so they don’t become loose ends.  Yesterday, I sent my brother a check I owed him for our parents’ Christmas gifts.  HEAR THAT, ANDREW?  I SENT YOU A CHECK YESTERDAY.  I AM NOT SUCH A DEADBEAT SISTER.  I’m trying to respond to e-mails as soon as I get them, lest I totally forget and blow someone off which I do not want to do because I care about my friends and family and want them to know that. Which reminds me, I have to go write an e-mail to a professor.  I’ve been dreading it, so no time like the present.

This isn’t about weight-loss (although I hope that is an outcome) or exercise (although that is part of the equation). It’s just about health–physical health, like my diet, water intake, drinking habits, and fitness; emotional health, like how I nurture and maintain relationships, my anxiety and relaxation, and my self-esteem, and mental health, like monitoring my depression or improving my schoolwork and writing. Life’s too short to feel shitty when there’s something you can do about it, ya’ dig? Plus I just slayed the health insurance leviathan. Those assholes finally had to pay for my Cymbalta, so I’m on the path to some stability in that area, because I know this medicine works for me.

So, I’m attempting to start a new routine that moderates my unhealthy habits and increases actions and activities that are good for me. Today (and almost every day thereafter), I’m starting my day with 30-Day Shred with ol’ kinda maybe gay girl Jillian, followed by a healthy breakfast. Oddly enough, I eat breakfast less now that I work at home than I did when I didn’t. I guess I just put it off until lunchtime, even though I know I have more energy and feel better when I eat a bowl of oatmeal or cereal or even just a piece of fruit. Because I’m currently obsessed with all things food, I think about it 94% of the time anyway, and when I have an empty stomach, my food-related thoughts just get out of control. Then I get crabby if my lunch is late and Chris likes to eat like Wilford Brimley so I’m firing up dinner at 4:30 even though I probably ate an hour earlier. Breakfast, YOU ARE THE LYNCHPIN.  Rev this metabolism, motherfucker.

I’ve got a whole list of shit I’m going to be doing, and I’ll be posting about it periodically.  THUS ENDS MY SLOTH AND GLUTTONY.

***In other news, check out my new food project with the gals over at Food Blog Mafia.***