I know this is technically not a limerick. It is, however, autobiographical.
*ahem*
Liquor before beer,
Never fear.
Wellbutrin before liquor,
Never sicker.
What do you think? Ok, I won’t quit my day job.
I first discovered this little equation a few months ago, when after a night on the town, I was sick the next day. And by sick, I mean I wanted. To. Die. It was awful. I had, however, imbibed a couple dozen drinks the night before, so I figured it was a run-of-the-mill hangover. Except it lasted all day long and I wanted to die. And it was Christmas Eve.
So I recovered eventually, and a month or so later we had friends over and I had a couple drinks. I’m not under-estimating that – I had two! Or maybe two and a half. But again, the next day, I was sick. I felt awful the entire day until I went to bed.
After that incident I recalled having read cautions about drinking alcohol while taking my anti-depressant of choice, Wellbutrin. I started to think that maybe, perhaps my illnesses were so pronounced because of the medication. That made me a little nervous about drinking at all, mostly because I was scared to feel horrible all day again but also because I wondered what the heck the combination was doing to my body if it left me feeling so bad. In fact, I was so nervous that when we went to Blissdom, I was afraid to get my drink on!
The irony of being unable to drink in a room full of teetotalers holding two free drink tickets a piece was not lost on me.
It was rather tragic.
Fast forward to tonight (or last night, what time is it anyway?). I met a group of friends after work for dinner, and then we went on to see Wicked. Not thinking a thing of it, I joined the rest of the girls (except the preggos, of course) in having a Wickedtini. Dinner was delicious, the company was great, and the show was fantastic.
But as I started my drive home, I realized I wasn’t feeling very well. My head hurt. I was a little nauseated. I was frickin’ HUNG OVER. From one drink! I drank water and took Advil and ate McDonald’s super value meal (ok I didn’t but it certainly would have helped). My husband laughed at me.
I’ve never been super-skilled at holding my liquor (although in comparison to Jenny I have the tolerance of a house full of frat guys), but this is ridiculous. It’s gotta be the medicine.
Either that, or I’m not as young as I used to be.
Yeah, it’s definitely the medicine.
