Huffpost Women The Blog   Leah Odze Epstein Headshot  My First
Drink  Posted: Updated:  I waited a long time for my first
drink. I'd had a few sips, swigs and nips of Manischewitz at
Passover; a wine cooler on a camping trip with friends; and
whiskey at an eighth grade sleepover. Still, I never had a
proper drink until graduation night of senior year.  Why was I
immune to peer pressure -- a paragon of willpower who tagged
along with her friends while they drank, got drunk and let
loose? In high school, I mostly avoided parties and stopped
kissing boys, since kissing boys was something you usually did
at social gatherings with the help of alcohol. Did I enjoy
standing in the corner at parties, observing the other humans at
play? I was shy to start with; I could have used a boost.  But I
was petrified I'd end up as an alcoholic -- like my mother. Or
that my parents would send me to drug rehab -- like my older
sister. As soon as my mother stopped drinking, my parents didn't
let one drop of alcohol cross the thre