god knows when you've been drinking

due to gallbladder issues, i've been off of the sauce for a good few months. not that i'm a complete lush or anything, but i have been known to drink on more than on occasion. 3pm is a timeframe usually reserved for football kickoffs or dismissal of middle school. for me, the hour marked when i sipped my first drink yesterday. ordinarily this wouldn't be an issue. do a little bit o day drinking an move into the evening with a slow and steady progression. this would keep me awake - and with enough time i would hopefully forget that i was supposed to be going to a club at midnight. that's right - midnight. usually by that time i'm either halfway home or plotting my exit. we're talking midnight arrival - not departure. also keep in mind folks that i've been off the sauce for a few months. 2 drinks turned into 4 at the garden, and there i was getting ready to go to a friend's birthday party at a club in the city. i put on a dress and some leggings (yep - i said leggings) and took my tipsy self to the club. (i drank another 2 mixed drinks in between the garden and the bar). in my mind i should have gotten out of the club appearance for intoxication, but my BAC didn't do anything to keep me from hitting the velvet ropes. by the time we got to the club, i had enough of the bar scene. the alcohol had saturated my system, and i was ready to go to bed. after a few solid years of knowing my drinking limits, i no longer pretend that i can move past this limit into anything other than bedtime. i dutifully said my hellos to all at the club and promptly pretended i had to go to the bathroom. immediately i made a beeline to the exit, hopped in a cab, and made it safely to my bed prior to midnight. this is why i don't go to the clubs. the psychological prospect of having to go causes me to overmedicate. it's best in the future if i stick to dive bars and t-shirts and jeans, and i think my liver will agree. as a punishment, i was blessed with the worst hangover i've had in years. combination of cranberries, beer, and rain. god's perfect storm of gluttony, guilt, and grain products. 

my belly button is deformed

you'll have to excuse the long delay in my writing. a venezuelan surgeon sucking your gallbladder out of your body quicker than daniel plainview drinking someone's milkshake puts a person out of commission for a while. especially when they're given vicodin to help them heal. i'm not a big believer in using pain meds. i avoid them when i can, but MAN do those things help you feel good. actually they just make it so you can't remember how shitty you really felt. at the time i remember laying on my back and staring at my punctured stomach, asking myself why i didn't feel as good as i should for being so drugged up. five minutes later i could have remembered the 10th round of a flip cup tournament better. 

it's lucky that none of my friends (who doubled as my caretakers) took advantage of me. they had free reign of my wallet and all my credit cards, and i was freely telling anyone who may need any cash my pin number. plus they could have dressed me in just about anything and i would have gone along with it. though they probably didn't recognize the gold mine of opportunity, i felt like they could have done a remake of 'weekend at bernie's' but had me half-heartedly cooperate. 

i've never had any scars before - at least not any real ones. i have two from the chicken pox and a tiny one on my ankle from getting my foot pinched between a car seat and my heels when drunkenly cramming into a taxi in the middle of winter in college. my new scars are slightly more bad ass. they're a little symmetrical and tidy to claim a knife fight on the subway, but i don't despise them too much now that the swelling has gone down. four days after my surgery, i had looked like i was in my second trimester. i'd sit and stare at my pooch wearingly - WHAT IF IT DIDN'T WORK? i'd become cranky and pale and sleepy with food deprivation. i stopped even wanting food and wasn't even a bit hungry when my coworkers were chowing down on full meals while i picked at rice and miso soup.  

in the end, all is well post-surgery. though i eat portions not even large enough to qualify for a "mighty kids meal" at mcdonald's, i can eat again. i had the great equalizer in food products last week - a lunch special from the sushi restaurant down the block from work.  i tested the waters with a few beers last week, but the big test will be a birthday bash this weekend. as stomach problems go, i'm hoping that the worst will be a bit of heartburn from a slice at 3am.