You wake up, slowly. Open one eye and survey last night’s damage. Pounding headache. Nausea. A cut on your right kneecap, when the fuck did that happen? Face and pillowcase full of smeared makeup. Oops, one shoe still on. At least you’re in your own bed, although you can’t quite remember getting home. Pretty standard Saturday and/or Sunday morning.
Every self-respecting betch has figured out her signature hangover cure by now. Some have their scrambled eggs down to an art form. Others head straight to brunch and re-tox on mimosas and Bloody Marys. Russian betches eat pickles. Stoner betches light up.
You’re all doing it wrong.
My nutritionist (yes, I have a nutritionist, get over it) has imparted such wisdom that we should probably turn her clinic into some kind of altar. Betches all around the world will embark on pilgrimages to worship at her desk.
The best way to kill a hangover is to eat a salad.
How is this possible, you may ask. Why are all the brunch places serving up aesthetically-pleasing eggs and carbs when our hangovers could all be broken by a bowl of leafy greens? Answer: Because they’re fucking dumb too.
It actually makes sense if you think about it. Vegetables are packed full of water. Water is what your poor abused body needs. Chop up some lettuce or baby spinach or whatever and mix with any and all vegetables you have in the fridge. Bonus if it’s cucumber and celery which are like 80 percent water. Add healthy fats such as avocado and olive oil to help with the “healing process”—yes, she actually called it that.
You also get the bonus of not feeling like a cow after consuming several thousand alcohol calories and a heavy brunch in the same 24 hours.
I was skeptical too, betches. But trust me. This shit actually works. You’re welcome.
