How to survive your high school reunion. Sober.

This past week I’ve been whooping it up in Mafikeng, the seat of my high schooling, puberty, teenage angst and so many other glorious moments I just adore reliving. When the idea of travelling 9 bajillion miles back to the North West province was put to me back in March, I had one proviso:

“Sure I’ll go, but on one condition. You let me get completely motherfucking hammered while I’m there.”

If I was going to go back to the place where I had a perm, a back brace and sleepless nights after being bullied by some of the bottom-feeding pond scum that went there, I was sure as shit not going to do it sober. I was going to be anaesthetized to the eyeballs with Cuervo, Castle and everything in between.

Fast forward a few months, and I was actually starting to look forward to it. Maybe the shitty people wouldn’t come. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad I was fearing. Maybe I would summit as-yet-unknown heights of drunkenness in my attempts to discover just how much alcohol my awesome body could handle. So far, so fabulous.

And then this happened.

100 Days of Sobriety: The Sequel

When I was trying to decide what to do after my first round of 100 days, there was only one thing holding me back from going ahead with a second round. The High School Reunion. Surely it’s not possible to go to a reunion sober? Surely you have to be drunk as shit to handle all the people with better lives than you, the people who look down on the decisions you’ve made, the people who made your life hell? Surely even the big guy upstairs would need a glass of something stiff to get through that?

And then I thought, fuck it. I’m 37 years old, I like who I am, I’m sure as shit not apologising for who I am, and as I’ve found out over the past 100 days and then some, I don’t need need alcohol to be awesome. I was born that way. So sober it would be, and that was that.

Of course, on the way up (a two-hour flight followed by a four-and-a-half-hour car drive) I began to second-guess my decision. WHYYYYYYY had I decided not to drink? Was I completely mad in the head? Surely just one little drink (or twelve) wouldn’t hurt? I was going to miss out on all the fun!! AARRGG!!!!!

Amidst the 99% of screaming and wailing and bargaining and yelling, there was 1% of me that was vaguely conscious that I had a goal I wanted to reach – hence the sobriety. And so that teeny tiny 1% of me decided to put some tactics in place to help me stay away from the booze and stay sane through all four days of high school high jinks. Tactics like:

1. Taking a buttfuckload of selfies.

Seriously, I went selfie befok. I reasoned that the more pics I had of me being fun and fabulous, the less I’d want to screw it all up with 19 shots of tequila. Love it as I do. Which is why I need to extend an apology to my Facebook friends for wallpapering their profiles with pics of my giant grinning mug. Sorry peeps, but you were taking one for the team there.

2. Working out in my hotel room.

Seriously. I did that. I didn’t take any pics because I thought it was sad as fuck, me bear crawling up and down the length of my hotel room (and slipping all over the shiny carpet). But I did it, and it helped keep me on the straight and narrow.

3. Hitting my macros.

Eating out when you’re away is always a minefield. Who knows what crap they’re cooking your food with, and who cares what you eat when you’re away anyway. Everyone knows that holiday calories don’t count right? I worked at the Spur in my final year of high school and I was so looking forward to going back, reliving old times, and smashing a double peppamelt burger with chips and onion rings INTO MAH FACE! Damn that shit is good. I was looking forward to it all the way to Mafikeng, all the way into the Spur, and then as soon as I sat down I heard the little voice: DOUBLE DIGITS!!! Fuck. My. Life. Which is why instead of gooey, cheesy, peppery, oily awesomeness, I had this instead:

And the rest of the reunion was pretty much on a par with that – because I figured the more I stuck to my eating plan, the less keen I’d be to ruin it with booze. How fun am I?

4. Scaring myself into starvation.

One pic of my old hair was enough for me to lose my appetite for good.

Yes. Me, 13 years old, standing third from the right.

Diabolical isn’t even the word. Enough said.

5. Going to bed early.

No shit. Everyone else went out partying night after night, carrying out some sort of self-imposed challenge to drink Mafikeng dry – like so:

Those glasses aren’t empty by the way. They’re tequila shots. The universe has no mercy.

I however went back to my hotel room (of bear crawl yore) and went to bed. If I can’t drink, I can’t be around people who are for too long. One or two people, yes. A whole crowd on a mission to get as hammered as possible before sunrise? Computer says no.

And so I left all the revellers and went back to my usual nightcap of decaf and QI. So much of excitement. It’s amazing the party police didn’t come and arrest me on the spot.

6. (And the most important one) Surrounding myself with fabulous people.

As much as high school was the worst of times, it was the best of times too. And luckily for me, many of the people who made it fabulous for me then were there to make the reunion fabulous as well. Which is why some of my best memories of the past week look like this:

After four days of immersing myself in school life I was glad to be home on Sunday evening, but I was also so glad I went. I got to feel an immense connection with my alma mater, I got to catch up with people I haven’t seen in 20 years, I got to have an amazing time in a fabulous positive environment – but most of all I got to test my resolve to the limit, and come out swinging. Not drinking over my high school reunion was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life, and I bloody well went and fucking did it. If I can do that, I can do anything, that’s for damn sure.

Oh, and you know how in American movies, if you work hard and believe in yourself then dreams do come true? Check this shit out.

Last week:

This morning:

After a week of having fun, staying sane and working my ass off, I’m just 700g away from one of my major weight loss goals. So was staying sober through my high school reunion worth it?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

So long ISB and thanks for all the fish! See you for 35 years of awesomeness!

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