It's probably a bad sign that I've put off starting my 40-day challenge until I could get in one last bender, but it's no surprise to any of you that that's exactly what I did.
Yes, there were daiquiris.
Yes, there were margaritas.
Yes, there was toe sucking.
A good time was had by all. I was even drunk enough to want to give my dog a "haux-fawk" (goddamned drunken dyslexia).
And from now until June 4 (June 4!), not one bad thing shall pass my lips.
Well, you know, with maybe the one exception.
But it's rather low in calories, cannot really said to be delicious, and frankly, no one's mistaking me for a saint. I think 2 out 3 addictions is impressive enough.
Whining will probably commence in about two hours. I'll be at work, I will hit that 2am wall and think: my salvation is just a vending machine away. The Diet Pepsi, with its whisper of caffeine, will be calling my name. I'll wonder if there's $1.75 in my wallet, and know that I'm not above changing a $20.
But I'm feeling strong.
Okay, that's a lie.
What I'm mostly feeling is that I'd be really embarrassed to have failed on the first day.
And embarrassment (or the avoidance of it) is a pretty powerful thing.
The tequila blanco is weakening in my blood stream already.
At what point will I start fighting Herbie for his dog treats? And if worse came to worse, would you go for bacon-flavour hearts, or gravy-flavour strips?