Three Drunken Women', by Torii Kiyonaga, Wikimedia Commons |
It’s four o’clock in the morning, or some other ridiculous hour, and, having fallen into an instant stupor when you first got in, you are now regrettably, hideously and painfully awake.
Boom - thoughts of regret and embarrassing memories begin to assail you straight away. This is closely followed by a stark assessment of where your life is going. The spirit of regret takes on a multi-coloured plait of attack, twisting together in a spiral of malevolence (like one of those weird, pastel-coloured marshmallow sweets you used to get).
Firstly, there is the strand of thoughts concerning your physical well-being.
Why did I drink so much? Why didn’t I eat first?
Then, sometimes, there are the rather more murky feelings of personal, spiritual regret:
Then, sometimes, there are the rather more murky feelings of personal, spiritual regret:
Why did I say that? Why did I do that? What’s wrong with me? I’m (insert age here), why haven’t I learned by now? I am doing this job which is going nowhere and trying my hardest to become a trapeze artist but what if I'm kidding myself? I'm only mediocre, at best, as a tightrope walker...
In my case, it’s not so much my advanced age that makes the regret so bad, after all, as a colleague once said; ‘Age has nothing to do with maturity, darling.’
It’s the fact that, with all the years of self-examination, I really should know better by now, I really should be 'doing better'.
In my case, it’s not so much my advanced age that makes the regret so bad, after all, as a colleague once said; ‘Age has nothing to do with maturity, darling.’
It’s the fact that, with all the years of self-examination, I really should know better by now, I really should be 'doing better'.
I'm not saying that by giving up drink, I will instantly become more productive and successful (or am I imagining this drink-free super-ninja me, chopping through challenges and leaping from treetop to rafter...?), I just want to see if it has any effect on my state of mind (and waistline). Of course, I had to give up the sauce when I was pregnant but that was for a concrete reason. (Perhaps it would be easier if I just pretend that I'm pregnant this time and see if it helps my resolve - perhaps I can replicate the sensation of pregnancy by eating rotten food to induce projectile vomiting and grate my nipples with a cheese grater...)
So, I will see you on the other side of September, a newly svelte figure with glowing skin, a firm sense of purpose and a bronze certificate in trapeze-artistry under my arm.
And for the physical symptoms of the hangover, I can offer the recipe for the famous hangover smoothie:
Take
- Half a pint or so of milk
- A banana
- Some honey (at least a teaspoon)
- A sprinkling of ground cinnamon (optional)
And blend.
It’s supposed to help settle your stomach and ease your head. For the really nuclear hangover, though, you may need pharmaceutical help.
P.S Don't those three 'drunken women' in the painting above look elegant? I wish I could have such poise (whilst getting trashed).
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