Tough Bitch

photo from here

“Uuuuggghh,” I uttered.

“I know,” said Jen.

We sat in the uncalled-for bright room, victim to our hangovers. Trying to concentrate on whatever god-awful daytime television show was on.

Because we knew it would all begin again soon, Jen and I had margaritas in our hands. A special recipe shared among our friends.

I was ecstatic to have Jen visiting me in Iowa. This was the era known as pre-child, pre-Colorado, pre-30’s. Ahhh, the life of a 20-something…and my husband and I were in the midst of many celebratory parties – farewells and good-byes before our big move to Colorado.

I looked over at Jen. She slowly looked over at me.

“Jen,” I started, a bit dramatically. “Could you please do me a really big favor,” I said as I mustered my most pitiful expression. This kind of expression works if you have loyal and lovely friends like Jen.

“What?” was all she said, a little put out. Who wouldn’t be put out a little bit when being requested to assist in a big favor while monumentally hung over?

“Will you please get me some ibuprofen?” I asked sweetly. “I will love you forever.”

Jen smiled and said, “Yes.” Like I said, she is a good, dear friend.

Jen rummaged around in my room and then brought me the ibuprofen. She then sat with a sigh on the couch. I’m sure it took all the energy she had to perform this task for me. I had not the heart to tell her that I needed water. There was no way I was going to stand and do anything for myself. I grabbed my untouched glass of margarita, took a giant swig, and swallowed my ibuprofen at once.

“Ugh,” I said after it was over. “I just took those ibuprofen with my margarita.”

“I know,” Jen says. “I thought about getting you some water, but I didn’t because I thought, ‘Ack, Kristy will take these with margarita. She’s a tough bitch.’”

“Yes,” I said, agreeing. “Thank you.”