It’s official. My days of heavy duty drinking will have to be curbed. I just don’t have the iron guts I once had.
Take Friday night. An impromptu Friday afternoon drink turned into 2 beers and a bottle of wine. And I was not well the next day. Neither was Phil. And look, it’s not like we don’t ever drink. We will mostly have a drink each night, although there have been many plans of attack to give up school night drinking. All have been thwarted. But our biggest mistake on Friday was to drink on empty stomachs. Classic rookie mistake, only thing is, I'm no rookie.
In fact, my drinking days started when I was 14. Yep, I'm not proud of this and I will personally book my child into the nearest Celine Dion appreciation course as punishment should I ever catch them doing what I did. And when I say I started drinking, I should clarify, it was a one off. We got stuck into my best friends’ parents Gin they kept proudly on display,in a nifty pottery bottle. We, being the smart little chickens we were, hastily filled the bottle back up with water, then proceeded to knock over the Webber BBQ out the back, scoop up the black embers back in, and then run our black hands down their hallway walls. All of course, whilst my friend’s parents were trusting us to stay home and watch New Kids on the Block Videos and eat popcorn. Trust fail.
Then of course, we hit the big leagues around the age of 18. I remember being first year out of school, my first full time job and just going out every Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. We could back that shit up like a tip truck driver, our livers were so fresh. Sure, some Monday mornings I was more than a little green and even overheard this conversation once “She’s looks like shit” (Girl I work with to my boss). “You’ve got to give her credit for turning up but” (My boss’s response). It didn’t help that I worked at a very social office or that they provided us with a limousine account. It was just too easy.
So they were the big days of mass drinking but now, well since I had children, my options and my willingness to feel like 10 shades of shit has waned.
My last really big one was my 30th birthday. We went out to a restaurant in Surfers and then about 20 of us wandered on to an Irish Pub where our friend was playing in the bar. I think the fact that it finished with my husband practically having to fireman carry me back to our friends car and only just making it onto the lawn in time to hurl, sums it up really. The next day I don’t believe I surfaced until dinner time.
Thankfully God invented McDonalds shortly after he invented hangovers. I know, a fresh watermelon, apple and carrot juice would probably do me the world of good, but all I ever want is GREASE. Just handover the hash brown and nobody gets hurt.
So this could be the complete feeling like a piece of crap talking, but I hereby am slowing down on the wine consumption. At least during the week. I reckon if I put it on paper, it will be harder for me to make excuses. You know the ones, those excuses we all make to justify what we know we are doing is wrong. Like - oh two out of three kids have seen the inside of the ER this month, I reckon a beer or three on a Tuesday is perfectly acceptable. What about a drink with dinner on the way to the movies? That doesn’t hurt right?
Or maybe I just need to realise my binge drinking days need to be over. Before we both waste another Saturday watching the kids whizz by the doorway, only to stop intermittently and scream some sort of food order at us.
At least til one of us turn 40 anyway.