Happy Hour

This piece should also be called self control. Because it’s so obvious that us twentysomethings seem to have anything but that, when it comes to open bars and buffets and stuff being handed to us. Take, take, take, woo is me.

You wake up one morning. Head hurtining. Eye makeup smeared across your contrasting stark white pillow case. Zoom in on clock. An hour past where you’re supposed to be. You reach over and grab what’s left of your 1 litre bottle of Fuji water, still sipping out of it when there’s no water to be had – in hopes that droplets will quench your thirst. If only you weren’t fed a full bottle of champagne (free of charge) when you ordered but a glass. If only your plus one didn’t find the need to entertain your unlimited orders of double vodka sodas. If only the post-work event didn’t hand out glasses of Moet, with attendees who didn’t keep making toasts. If only the wedding you were at last weekend, and the weekend prior didn’t house an open bar for your perusal. If only – despite all this – you had the ability to stop at two and call it a day, for a day you would be granted when you awoke. Coulda, shoulda, woulda.

When working in the editorial department of a fashion and beauty publication, PR people would send us unlimited goodies, showcasing the next hot new thing. The editorial team would split up the products based on the stuff we liked best, a Christmas of sorts for women of our kind. We were given bags to fill and as most of my collegues would fill to their hearts delight (a scene right out of ‘Confessions of a Shopaholic’ style), my bag remained empty (except for a very sparkly Deborah Lippmann polish).

I realized that I would be taking these items just because they’re readily available and not because I actually wanted them. This is reminiscent of cocktail parties/happy hour types of events I’ve gone to. At one of them, I realized everyone else was downing drinks around me, I – after my go-to two – instead opted for the delicious San Pallegrino with an accompanied lime to tickle my fancy. My fancy being my tomorrow. Because, it is ever-so-easy to be carried away, and before we know it the storyline that opened this piece has us as the main character.

Think of the times you’ve sat at Starbucks, already regretful of your somewhat caloric drink choice, only for a barista to come around offering you a sample of their feature drink. One that more so often than not contains some very convincing whipped cream. Flirt with the idea of saying no. Of staying within a certain limit whether it comes to food, drinks or anything offered in an open-ended state. To gain control in one area of your life is to execute it in others. Us blonde, bronzed, twentysomethings sometimes need to know when enough is enough. In the meantime, avoid the all you can eat sushi run you had planned to end your week with.

– Jenny Jen

Photo Credit: Source.

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