The 40DC

A few years ago, my Catholic friend Kelly cut out alcohol for Lent. Being someone who likes to collaborate, I decided to join her and gave up chocolate (uh yeah, like I was going to give up wine and cheese parties for 6 weeks. Duh).

Kelly and I don't work together anymore but a few weeks ago when the Lent season rolled around again, I had the urge to give something up. Like dessert. And sugary things. And so I embarked on the "40-Day Challenge," a little something that happens to coincide with Lent and doesn't happen to be related to Jesus and that I completely made up.

I'm a few weeks into the 40DC and I'm surrounded by dead, dried fruit. Pineapple chunks and mango strips stare at me from my nightstand. Apple rings and dates are shoved between the cake mix and the bag of chocolate chips, both of which have been banished until late March. Someone told me that eating dried fruit would make me feel like I was eating something bad without the calories. The novelty has worn off and now I just feel like I'm eating fruit. Without the water.

Speaking of dehydration, we went out to a Muhlenberg Happy Hour (which I like to refer to as Oktoberfest, Round II) and I proceeded to get my moneys worth of the $25 all-you-can-drink night out. In this bar, you blow past $25 after two drinks, and I had probably worked through half my student loans by the time Sarah put me in a cab and gave me $20 to get to Brooklyn. Of course my cab driver spoke French (though, per usual, I don't know how I figured that one out, just sort of realized halfway through the conversation that we were using 'vous' with each other) and when I got home, I proceeded to pass out. On a Thursday night. At 10:45p.m.

Bad news for the Challenge: I woke up the next morning, an empty bag of chips and their crumbs inhabiting the other side of the bed. And then! On the floor! An empty bag of M&Ms!

Goldie says falling off the wagon doesn't count if you were drunk, so I'm back in the game. With freaking dried papaya as my guide.

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