Hitting the gym, skipping dinner and heading to my friendsí place for an evening of wine and cheese is a recipe for disaster. Iíve never, ever been a woman who can handle not eating. In fact, if I donít at least snack every three to four hours, I feel like Iím going to die.
I canít believe Iím telling you this, but long story short, I drank too much and ate too little during our girlsí night in. Then I convinced my pals to go to a bar before immediately bailing.
This is the time when I want a boyfriend to pick me up and take me home. Instead, I rode the subway, fell asleep on some pour guyís shoulder, lost one of my sneakers from my gym bag, and made it to my apartment just in time before I crashed.
The next day I awoke with a headache and a nagging feeling that I did something ridiculous, but didnít know exactly what. Hey, if you donít remember, it didnít happen, right? That is, unless you have a camera for documentation. Where the heck did I get this cowboy hat and why am I taking photos of myself wearing it? Iím officially reigning myself in.