My Naturopath’s Gonna Kill Me
Dear Dr. Lori,*
I know we made some compromises before my trip about things like no dairy/sugar for Tequila/corn chips, but I have to confess – I haven’t exactly lived up to my end of the bargain. Like, at all.
It started off great: I took rice cakes on the plane and put Splenda in my Mojito. I consumed gallons of water and did serious cardio every day. But here’s the thing: I’ve brought my family to Mexico to hang with my best pal from high school, Lori,* and her family. She lives thousands of miles from me and we’ve recently reconnected after a 15-year estrangement.
So basically, we think of each other (and ourselves, when we’re together) as 25-years-old. We asked ourselves, do we want to look back on this trip in 30 years and congratulate ourselves for eating gluten-free? Or do we want to remember getting so plastered on a homemade vat of Sangria that even my three-year-old was giving me the side-eye?
You’re a cool, young (compared to me, anyway) gal, Dr. Lori. I figure you’ll understand. Plus, my kids are still on Eastern Standard Time, which means that they want dinner at 3 pm and breakfast at 4 am. Not many things would drive a woman to drink faster than that schedule (honestly, it’s a miracle that I’m not hoovering gelato by the gallon).
I’ll be home soon enough so you’ll be able to resume your masochistic ways with me. Until then, I have to go and eat my weight in guacamole.
p.s. To answer the question I know you’re dying to ask: Not really, but I suspect one street taco will get me back on track.
*Yes, her name is Lori, too