A Goodbye Letter To The Hot Mess I Used To Be


Hello. It’s me.

At least, the new-and-improved me. We knew this day was going to come for some time now. You have been your standards chair’s worst nightmare since the day you accepted your bid. It is time to disembark the Hot Mess Express.

You cannot spend the rest of your adult life dancing on any and every available elevated surface. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE you know is aware of this. Stages? Yep. Bars? Oh yeah. Tables? Any day. Booths? No problem. Speakers? You know no bounds. You also cannot keep drinking on random Tuesday afternoons just because. You cannot keep spending every Wednesday night, even though it is 75 cent well night, at your favorite bar so obliterated that you have to be carried home when your best friend finds you passed out on a park bench outside three bars over.

It is time to function as a normal human being in society. There is not a single person out there on Earth whose life is unlike an hourglass glued to the table, including yours. Your undergraduate career is more than midway through the third quarter, yet you have been partying like you just moved into your freshman dorm. You have aspirations, and you’re not going to get there unless you calm down, put down the shot glass, and get serious and face your real life head-on with tact and grace.

Going around yelling, “Well, if you’re not f***ing me, feeding me, or funding me, I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK!!!” every time someone disagrees with you is no longer acceptable. In the real world, you never get a second chance to make a great first impression, and it is time you started caring about what people think, because you will have a boss, an important professor, or even future in-laws who you’ll want to think of you as a highly-competent and stellar young woman. You don’t want to be known as the girl who ran out of her 11:00 a.m. class so hungover she puked all over the side of the building.

Even though it is time to put on your proverbial big girl panties, we should take a look back on all of your horrible life choices that you’ve been making since you were sixteen, and have a good, hearty chuckle. You have worn the Head DAB crown with pride, and damn, did you have a lot fun doing it. You entertained pretty much every stranger you came across, and even did them many services, like dragging an entire bag of wine from frat house to frat house the morning of boys’ Bid Day, encouraging anyone to slap the bag at 7 a.m. because why not? There was never an event you didn’t feel was inappropriate to pregame. And drink at. And drink afterwards. Getting the entire bar to sing along with you to “I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing” by Aerosmith is one of your biggest accomplishments, along with winning $100 in a strip contest at a gay bar. You have put the “fun” in functioning alcoholic for many, many years now.

Though it has been a fantastic, mind-blowingly inappropriate ride on the Hot Mess Express, adulthood calls. Thank you so much, Old Me, for the memories, or lack thereof. Finally, I want you to know that you don’t have to change who you are deep-down. You can still be the fun, bubbly girl who gets excited for fun events and plans, you just can’t be three sheets to the wind at said fun events and plans. And stay off of the elevated surfaces, for the love of all that is holy. Please.

The New You.

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She's a fast food connoisseur with a weakness for making the worst decision whenever possible. Dancing on tables is her favorite workout, and she likes her martinis as cold and bitter as her heart.

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