Dry Magdalena.

Magdalena Rivera lived an exciting life, filled with booze and trouble. She sang too much karaoke. She went scuba diving and when she got a Charlie horse, the scuba diving instructor massaged her foot long after her tiny cramped toes relaxed. Magdalena broke dozens of beer bottles on the heavy wooden doors while the bouncers threatened to call narco gangs to disappear her from the face of the earth. She didn’t care, she screamed “I’ll call them for you! What’s the number?”


Magdalena would drink your beer, and steal your boyfriend. They still message her on Facebook, late at night, when they are drunk and lonely.

Things Magdalena has done while drunk- off the top of my head:
• Picked fights (and forgot about it the next day)
• Bootie danced with a guy at a wedding, when his chick saw them, she dropped her drink and broke the glass on the dance floor. Magdalena danced around barefoot.
• She stole bouquets from multiple weddings. (sorry)

 • Made out with a bunch of people in a hot tub. (Someone’s wife, someone’s boyfriend. Not sorry about that.)
• Hung out of a sunroof while the driver drove too fast down the highway.
• Got on a motor scooter after a her goodbye party and went to a new friends house…she did wear a helmet.

Many more things happened. This is the short list.

Moving on.

I started a new job at the beginning of August, and took a personality test. They assign you a color and you reference it in regards to the way they train you, the way you work and the way you interact with your colleagues and the customers. I thought for sure I would be blue- emotional, compassionate. I was a strong orange- action, adventure, risk, trouble.

I am a troublemaker. Unless it is not clear, I am Magdalena. She is my evil, drunk twin. Magdalena is me, with a heavy liquor lacquer.

I moved from Magdalena life to the life I am living now- an office job, a part time student, with an occasional side job. I try to go to the gym. I try to have a social life. These days, though, I try not to drink. Earlier this year, in an attempt to clean up my unhealthy eating and shed a few pounds, I quit drinking. I had faced my fair share of hang overs, overspending, over indulging and regrettable choices through nights that turned into early mornings- of heavy, heavy drinking.

One night, a few months ago I was celebrating a friends 30th birthday, I recalled the times I had vomited in friends cars, vomited out of their cars, vomited in trash cans while my world spun around and I cried. I recalled this because I was splashing water and slapping a young woman’s face in the grody bathroom of a local bar. She was incredibly intoxicated, much more than her friends. I recalled Magdalena, and all of the dangerous choices she- I- had made, while drunk. I was lifted from this bitter trip down memory lane as I snatched a cell phone out of a teertering young woman, snapchatting my friend moaning and crying into the toilet.

“Get the FUCK out of here before I break your phone and your fucking face, you BITCH!” I screamed.

As I dragged that young woman from the party into the closest emergency room, my heart was aching, for all the times I had done this very thing- drank until I blacked out. I ached for her, and for myself. I thought it was the cold that made me shake, but it was really because I was thinking about the time I was so out of sorts I was almost raped.

I ached for the multiple times I recounted the messy weekends for my far away friends in emails. Once, one of my best friends responded that she feared I would end up dead. Though I would be a liar if I said I stopped drinking completely, I will say I am much more thoughtful in my drinking, and my reasons for it.

I can say, with certainty I never want to live that seemingly exciting, but ultimately dangerous life I once did. Magdalena is dry. It’s fine.

She’s- I’m free.

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