Daily Routine Of The Girl Who Started Drinking 100 Fluid Ounces Of Water Every Day
6:00 AM: I rise, feeling refreshed and alert and not hungover at all, despite coming home from the club last night at 3 AM with only one sticky boob on. You see, I drank a full glass of water before peacefully dozing off.
6:02 AM: I pee.
6:05 AM: Twice.
6:45 AM: My newfound energy motivates me to try a morning yoga class. The instructor, Ocella, says it’s unusual for yogis to do tripod headstand during their very first class. I must be really hydrated.
7:35 AM: My size 6 jeans from college fit like some kind of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants voodoo even though I thought I Marie Kondo-ed them weeks ago. My dark circles have magically disappeared as if I’ve never touched caffeine, alcohol, or drugs before. I am pure.
7:45 AM: I gleefully funnel 40 oz. of water out of a beer bong and take Vitamins A through Z for breakfast.
11:15 AM: My boss calls me into her office. As I guzzle water from my novelty drinking helmet, she informs me I’ve been promoted to Director, even though I’ve only been with the company for two weeks. Then she compliments my radiant skin. I rush to the bathroom for a celebratory pee.
1:13 PM: With my hydration comes a newfound mental clarity, and I begin to understand the greater meaning of my existence. My peak nirvana sparks the idea for what I know will be a best-selling novel. I quickly get to work penning the manuscript over my lunch break. I pound a 32 oz. CamelBak.
2:00 PM: I seriously have to pee during this meeting.
2:34 PM: Has anyone ever really dried their hands with an automatic hand dryer?
3:07 PM: I am taking shots of water out of my Panama City Beach shot glass at my desk when I receive a text out of the blue from my estranged father. He sends a heartfelt apology and pledges to be the father I never had. I quietly weep and shed a single tear, which drips to my mouth. It tastes bitter from all the years lost, but maybe he isn’t the villain of my novel after all.
4:09 PM: I shotgun a can of water off the office balcony. Have I consumed 100 fluid ounces yet? My kidneys feel amazing.
5:35 PM: I finish my manuscript and catch an Uber Pool from the office to my friend Stacey’s birthday party downtown. I share my Uber with an attractive gentleman who shares a polite nod and isn’t playing a game on his phone without headphones, so I already like him.
6:05 PM: I realize my bladder is going to erupt, so exit the car in search of the nearest public bathroom. In my haste, I leave the manuscript of my future-best-selling novel in the back of the Uber.
6:12 PM: I jog the remaining seven blocks to the bathroom in a magnificent burst of energy, like a mother lifting a car to save her brood.
6:23 PM: I befriend the sweetest drunk girl in the bathroom, but I don’t catch her name. She invites me to her book club and tells me my skin is better than Chrissy Teigen’s.
6:57 PM: I relive my college glory days by doing a keg stand at the party — and request for the keg to be filled with water. 40 seconds quenches my thirst. I feel and look ten years younger. I am a freshman again. See you on the quad!
7:32 PM: While peeing for the fourth time at the party, I receive a call from an unknown number. I wait until I am done peeing to pick up. It is the man from my Uber Pool — he has my manuscript and wants to return it. He just so happens to be an award-winning literary agent and he thinks my work is New York Times Bestseller material. He wants to meet me tonight.
7:48 PM: I pee and leave for a nearby cafe to meet Mr. Literary Agent. I nervously chug water in anticipation.
8:24 PM: I pee at the cafe.
8:36 PM: Mr. Literary Agent and I hit it off. We fall in love over stale Baklava and the shadow of my one-gallon thermos looming over the cafe table. He signs me. Then he kisses me.
11:48 PM: We talk for hours. It’s like we’ve known each other our entire lives. He says he has something to ask me. I lean in.
11:49 PM: I point him to where the bathroom is.
