Don't worry, Mom. I'm not (yet) an alchoholic. Now that Julie is around, I do partake in a drink with dinner when we go out. (She doesn't drink and makes a wonderful designated driver--I sometimes think I have a glass of wine to force her to drive home. Just don't tell her.) Drinking doesn't depress me like it did in school, when I would drink two beers and then walk the five miles back to my apartment while my friends searched for me, worried that I had been drugged and kidnapped by a beautiful woman. Okay, that last part probably never occurred to any of them.

It could be my tolerance increased along with my body weight. Speaking of weight, did I mention I've lost all the extra weight I gained while working out? I'm yet again too-skinny-for-the-real-world. I'm chicken legged and proud of it.