Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)

October 29

October 29

Woke up in a bit of a haze this morning, but without a hangover. Miracles do happen! Is this what it's like to drink responsibly? I could get used to this.

While still in bed, I tried to get a hold of Dan so that we could talk about last night's party. Dan wasn't picking up, so I relived the evening through videos, pictures, and an Instagram post I'd forgotten about. You know, because I really only use social media when I'm intoxicated. After my trip down memory lane, I rolled out of bed and started to figure out my day.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd woken up in my apartment on a Saturday morning and didn't have to be out the door at 9 a.m. As a result, I took some time to enjoy what's now the beginning of my last few weekends at the Witch Cave.

Now having migrated to the couch, I put on an episode of The Nanny and made myself a grilled cheese. I know, I know. Eating was against my plan this weekend. However, I knew that if I didn't put something in my body, I would be asking for trouble. That damned sandwich was gone within seconds. I also took some time for a much-needed rubdown, followed by a short nap. With Aaron visiting from New York City starting tonight, today was my last day alone in the apartment until Tuesday. I wanted to make the most of my solitude.

After my nap, it was time to get things moving. Literally. I packed a bag, walked to the gym, and did my thing. Nothing special. Although, I was proud of myself when I looked in the locker room mirror. My body isn't perfect. It's not where I wanted it to be for this weekend, but it's still a vast improvement from what I looked like at the end of the summer. I'm proud of myself. And, you know what? It feels fucking great. One of the best feelings in the world is being able to wear a t-shirt with carefree confidence. It doesn't happen often, but when I don't feel the need to put on an oversized sweater or hold my shirt away from my protruding gut during a gust of wind, I feel like a completely different person. I love it.

I took the subway home from the gym, unpacked quickly, and began getting myself ready for tonight's round two. By the grace of the Halloween gods (read: devils), I managed to get my eyelashes on in record time. I was ready by 9 p.m., which was around the time Dan came over.

When I put on my wig tonight, Dan and I both looked in the mirror in awe. The same thing happened last night. Seriously. It's so fucking weird. I look – pretty? I don't think either of us were expecting the costume to end up that way, but somehow, I wound up looking really, really feminine this year. Maybe it's the makeup. Perhaps it's the wig. I don't know. It's creepy, though. Now, I understand why that guy thought I was transgender last night. Even I had to do a double take.

We left the house a bit earlier than necessary, because I had the brilliant idea of visiting Carlton Cinema to see about taking some pictures in a movie theater. After all, I didn't dress up as "Heartbreaker" Mariah Carey without the intention of taking 1,500 photos.

After a hilarious walk down Church Street as I struggled to keep up in my stripper heels, Dan and I made it to the theater. The place was completely empty, except for the teenaged staff behind the concessions counter who looked like they were all stoned, and this one family with three small kids. As you might imagine, jaws hit the floor when Dan (Lady Gaga) and I (Mariah Carey) walked into the lobby.