Magazine

Queen of Alibis

After all the drunken lies, her house of cards finally fell

As a little girl born and raised in the U.S., whose father was from Durango and mother was from Zacatecas, I did not say, “When I grow up, all I want to be is an alcoholic.”

When I was 6, I was very ill with whooping cough. My parents gave me a big spoonful of cough syrup with alcohol. As it went all the way down it burned, tasted bitter and felt like it was exploding in my chest. I felt so giddy. The sensation was a jolt to my body. I loved the way it felt. After that day, I became like a little bird awaiting the next spoonful.

I chased that elusive feeling until I was... Login to read more
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