You're Not Getting Laid This Weekend If Your Breath Smells Awful

Greetings, sweet kittens. It's me, Zara, your digital big sister.

While I love the weekend as much as the next free-wheeling, high heel-wearing, winged liner-sporting, booze-swilling, red-lipsticked PARTY GIRL, 99.9 percent of the mistakes I've made in my life have taken place during the weekend. I've spent one too many Mondays spiraling down the dark vortex of weekend guilt, regret and shame.

But hey, don't fret. Because I'm going to be here every Friday to stop you from the awful weekend fuckups that are screwing up your life. Here's this week's Very Important PSA.

This weekend, Do NOT think your breath doesn't smell absolutely horrible.

It's vile because you've been drinking, baby.

And you probably went to dinner before you started drinking, huh? You ate that raw fish or maybe some of that ~sushi~. Or greasy pizza.

After you recklessly stuffed your face, you probably did some tequila shots with the girls, or maybe even sucked back a cigarette (despite the fact that you "don't smoke").

Now, you're swaying your body on the dance floor of le CLUB. It's two in the goddamn morning and you're breathing your dragon breath all over everyone. People are probably closing out their tabs right now to get away from it.

I mean, girl, when was the last time you even brushed your teeth?

I mean, girl, when was the last time you even brushed your teeth?

Let's be real: We've all smelled bad breath from another human being. It's a stench so specific and horrendous, it makes us want to gag. It makes us instantly think the person is somehow dirty, and then, we gossip about it to our friends.

"Oh, I totally would've kissed him, but EW, his breath was terrible!" you'll giggle, like a bitchy, little girl in the middle school cafeteria.

"EW, you can't kiss someone with BAD BREATH!" your bestie will sneer back, tapping her long nails on her basic Starbucks latte.

"NASTY! THAT BOY IS NASTY!" your bestie's other bestie will scream.

Then, the three of you will roar with laughter, and everyone else getting coffee at Starbucks will join in on the laughter because everyone knows you're laughing about bad breath. What else can we do except laugh at the things that make us feel sickened?

But can you imagine if the nasty boy they were talking about was YOU, girl?

In fact, what makes you think it's never been you before? You're not the exception to the rule. Bad breath doesn't discriminate.

Bad breath doesn't discriminate.

It doesn't care you have gorgeous, plush hair and perfect, golden highlights. It doesn't care your daddy paid for your college tuition, and you'll never feel the weight of paying back your student loans. And it certainly doesn't give two shits if you went to the best private school this side of the Mississippi.

It also doesn't care if your teeth are white. One time, I went on a date with a girl who had such blinding pearly whites, my eyes burned when she smiled. But you know what?

Her breath was still sour. It was the kind of breath you get after a long day in the office spent typing away on a laptop with your mouth shut. She hadn't gotten a lot of air that day.

The more she spoke, the more I fixated on the sour breath. It pulled me out of the moment, and we definitely didn't kiss at the end of the night.

So, what is your lesbian big sister's advice regarding bad breath?

Well, I've mastered the art of fresh breath (as it's become such a fear of mine), so you're in the right hands, baby.

Get yourself some LISTERINE Ultraclean Mouthwash — just a tiny, little travel bottle — and throw it into that quilted, oversized Chanel tote bag.

You're beautiful, and you deserve to have passionate kisses on dance floors on Friday nights.

After dinner, excuse yourself to the restroom and gargle like there's no tomorrow. I've trained myself to gargle for a good five minutes, though I recommend starting at two (trust me, it's harder than it looks).

Also, make sure you're "oil pulling" at least three times a week. Take a spoonful of ~extra virgin~ coconut oil, and swish it around in your mouth for 20 minutes. Not only does it detoxify the body, but it also makes your breath smell fabulous in the long run.

Girls, babes, vixens, virgins and gays, I don't want you to get laughed at by a bitchy group of girls at Starbucks.

I want you to be known for your freshness. I don't want you NOT to be kissed. You're beautiful, and you deserve to have passionate kisses on dance floors on Friday nights.

You're in the bloom of your youth, and you'll never be as gorgeous and untethered as you are now. Don't get rejected because you didn't think to swish some mouthwash after you ate that burrito.

If you do find yourself at the bar and you just want to skip that freshening routine as soon as you see that cutie gazing at you, imagine me as your cocktail waitress.

I'm clutching your glass of champagne between my long, pointy, red nails.

How can a lesbian have such long, pointy nails? you silently wonder, your eyes honing in on my claws.

I look at you long and hard.

You look really high fashion, and you're about to smell really high class.

"You're not getting your champagne until you've gargled, lady," I say firmly, like a loving-yet-tough mother you wouldn't want to fuck with. You stare into my soul, and I stare back into yours. And in that moment, we have a real family bond.

You strut off to the bathroom in your sky-high, stiletto heels. You stomp against the concrete floors like a supermodel fiercely throwing shade down a designer runway.

You look really high fashion, and you're about to smell really high class.

You're welcome.

And if you're tempted to skip the mouthwash and kiss the hottie at the club anyway, message me. Your lesbian big sister is here to rescue you from the mistakes that screw up your weekend.