1979, Las Vegas. A woman lies nude in her own waste, surrounded by the smell of animal refuse and a compound fracture that refuses to heal because she is drinking too much to mend. Francine W. describes the visceral grit of a life spent as a "garbage can," using any chemical available to zip herself out of a skin she couldn't stand. From a childhood of poverty and prejudice in New York to the furs and diamonds of the Upper East Side, she reveals the paradox of the high-society alcoholic: the clothes changed, but the "dirty stuff inside" remained.
She recounts the absurdity of her denial, including the time she sought an allergy test to prove she wasn't allergic to alcohol. Through the guidance of a Higher Power and a sponsor who demanded "esteemable acts," she moved from a place of "slutdom" to a woman who walks with dignity. She carries a ten-inch scar on her leg as a permanent reminder of the price of the bottle.
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