Last Friday night, when I was nearing the end of my second week of the Biggest Loser-style weight loss competition Just Lose It program at my gym, I was invited to my friend’s beach house for a girls’ night slumber party.
At first I thankfully declined the invitation.
I mean, I couldn’t drink. And trust me, I’ve given myself plenty of pep talks before walking into a social gathering about how I’m not going to drink because I am trying to lose weight, only to find a glass of wine in my hand 30 seconds after walking in the door.
And party food is my biggest weakness. (If we’re ever at the same party and you want to find me, just head over to the food table where you’ll most likely find me face first hoovering as many hors devours as I possibly can into my cheese hole.)
But we had nothing going on at home. And if I’m going to be successful beyond this program I’m going to have to learn how to rein it in and live my life in (a little bit of) moderation.
So I put on my big-girl no-drinking panties and went to the beach house.
Of course I got shit from my friends 30 seconds after walking in the door. I told them if they tried to make me drink I would leave. So they shut the hell up.
I have to be honest, if this Just Lose It program was an individual competition as opposed to a team competition, I would have ended up drinking. My drunk friends were acting like assholes, but I really don’t think I would have noticed (or cared) if I was drunk and acting like an asshole too. Screw proving something to myself. I disappoint myself all the time. I’m used to it. But I had a weigh-in in three days. I needed to stay strong and not disappoint my team.
I did have fun, but trust me, they were having more. Seriously, not to be offensive, but if this is what it’s like to be “high on life,” pass me a bottle of vodka so I can take a big ol’ swig. Being high on booze? It’s better.
Speaking of “high,”, the high point of the night was the food. At least for me. (No surprise there.) While there was fatty delicious crap dip (I only had two bites. With corn chips. Not bread.), the dinner itself was incredibly healthy. We grilled Salmon and chicken and fresh vegetables picked from one girlfriend’s garden. Plus we had cherries. Because my nutritionist says I need carbs. Amazing.
After dinner we pumped up the 80’s iTunes and danced. If you are a man reading this, and are anything like my husband, I will tell you just like I told him that seven women dancing in the living room of a beach house does not mean we were just one drink away from having a big lesbian orgy right in the middle of the hardwood floor. Sorry to disappoint you, dudes. It just means that dancing is fun. And girls just wanna have fun. (Yeah, that was lame, but I couldn’t resist.)
Around eleven o’clock (which is about an hour and a half past my bedtime) we decided to walk to the dive bar down the street, that due to previous trips to the beach house has been nicknamed “The Hurt Locker” by my husband.
And this, is where things got a little bit nutty.
I can’t really tell you what happened at The Hurt Locker because it’s a little like Vegas that way. But here are some things that might or might not have happened. (I can neither confirm nor deny them.)
There might have been a two-man band there (singer and guitar player) with a guitar player who only seemed to know one riff and therefore every song sounded exactly the same. If there was such a band, the mystery remains how in the hell the singer even knew what song the guitarist was playing.
One of the girls might have chatted up a few of the locals to get free beer. I won’t lie, I like free beer and attention from the opposite sex too, but at this place? Not worth the $5 savings.
One of the girls might have had everyone in the entire bar dancing because of her hilarious dance moves and vivacious personality. She’s very pretty, but her confidence and funny demeanor translated into her being sexiest broad in the joint (by far). Her goal may have been to make sure every single person at the bar was having a good time. (If that did happen and that was her goal, she achieved it.)
The girl chatting up locals for free beer might not have liked not being the belle of the bar and might have told some of the patrons that the dancing girl was a lesbian. Or perhaps she was trying to protect the dancing girl from unwanted
molesters suitors. You know, if she did say that, which I’m not saying she did.
But I will tell you that the dancing girl
might be is funnier and cuter than me, so while I wasn’t the one calling her a lesbian in an effort to minimize the attention being paid to her, she might have deserved it! (I’m just sayin’)
One of the girls might have flirted with a cute boy who is the same age as her son – 21. (And people call me a cougar.)
But I’m only saying those things might have happened. I’ll never tell. And if they did… well, my friends were just having fun. Drunk girls do silly things. I was sober, so of course my behavior was
But I will tell you this, it’s a good thing I’m seeing some real progress with this Just Lose It program, because I had fun, but my girlfriends? They had a blast!