Its Just a Break NOT a Breakup

This is a letter I never wanted to have to write. Its got me ugly crying like Kim K. into my morning coffee. I know once I write it all down its going to be real, but it has to be done... Dear My Sweet-Sweet Booze,

It pains me to write this. It hurts my heart more than that time I found out Channing Tatum was married. I just...think we need to go on a break. Listen, I don't like this any more than you do, but that 6 weeks of separation we had with each other last year really worked out for the best and I think, after the Holidays, it is time for us to take some time apart.

We have until the New Year at least! No, no this is not a New Year's resolution. If I had the choice between not hanging out with you for a year or standing butt-naked in the mall on Black Friday, I would start stripping now. It just that....you're making me puffy and swollen and full of Taco Bell. I'm trying to rejoin the Bad Bitches Club and you are just starting to hold me back. I know you don't mean to, but when you put on those sexy bleu cheese stuffed olives you know I like, I start retaining more water than the Titanic. Do you even know what its like for your fingers to be so swollen your rings give you a phalanges version of muffin-top?!

I know we'll find each other again. We always do. I can already picture our glorious reunion. I'll be base tanned and wearing strappy sandals as I wait in the airport headed to the Virgin Islands. I'll have my Bad Bitch Posse (*cough* E & Kay *cough*) in toe and you? You will be there at some trashy airport Chili's beckoning me across the terminal, whispering sweet nothings as I request your cold, refreshing touch from an airport bartender who undoubtedly hates his life. Then upon first sip, I will be wasted. 

Until then Booze, I give you permission to see other people. Go ahead and get college girls falling down drunk until they're making friends in a filthy dance club bathroom and making out with whoever grinds on them next. Go ahead and be the shoulder to cry on for that vulnerable girl who just got dumped by some dude she had already inserted into her fully planned imaginary wedding. Enjoy watching P.S. I Love You 47 times and telling her she looks beautiful as she munches on a brick of cheese. Do what you have to do while I'm gone. I understand. But please know - no matter how many hook-ups you facilitate or how many texts you send to inappropriate people at 3AM - no one and I do mean NO ONE will love you like I do. 

I can't wait until May.  Love, M.