Imagine the worst hangover you’ve ever had. The bed is spinning one way, the room the other. Your head is banging like a steel drum band. You feel sick again but you’re scared to move, there’s a bucket on the floor next to you and your tongue is stuck to roof of your mouth like an old battered Velcro shoe. Now imagine that every day for 9 months.
That’s how Hyperemesis during pregnancy was for me. So why on earth would I purposely do that to myself ever again? Looking back alcohol always hated me, or at least my body hated IT. I was always sick, I put it down to overindulging but whether I had 1 or 11 I’d vomit the whole of the next day without fail. In my late teens/early twenties I’d laugh it off, have a day to recover and start all over again not reading that much into it because I was young but then I got pregnant.
Ever since I made the decision to not drink anymore I’ve been called boring, I’ve been told “it’ll be fine, just have 1!” and been looked at like I’m some kind of weirdo. Why do people automatically assume it’s weird NOT to drink? Actually I’ve done some pretty stupid things while drunk…
I slipped on a slug barefoot after taking off my ridiculously high heels that I was unable to walk in. Slug guts might be soft but definitely not comforting.
I pissed all over my flip-flops in a bush when I just couldn’t deny the call of nature any longer.
I vomited all over myself in the back of a taxi, too drunk to move and do it out the window. Amazingly the taxi driver didn’t even seem to notice and I avoided being slapped with a fine. Or just slapped.
I worked up the courage (not really hard when you’ve had a few) to ask out the bloke I had a crush on at school – only to be turned down flat. Oh the shame of waking up and remembering not much else but that.
I got asked to leave a nightclub after my mate threatened to “knock that fucking blokes teeth out” when he randomly came over topless, blind drunk and tried to do a pole dance on our table. There was no pole and he was no Channing Tatum, lets just say she wasn’t impressed with him falling in her lap.
I fibbed to my poor old Nan that I hadn’t been drinking when I was quite blatantly on my hands and knees in the bathroom spewing my guts, your guts, everyone’s guts up.
I got what I thought were admiring looks from people in the pub only to go to the loo, look in the mirror and see the fine rain had made my hair into a Kevin Keegan nightmare and people were actually trying not to piss their pants laughing and elbow each other in mirth.
Read the shampoo bottle ingredients isn’t fun for kids and they won’t want to play it for 5 hours on the trot whilst you hug the toilet after a heavy night. And don’t get me started on Peppa Fucking Pig when your head is pounding.
I got hazy photos developed (remember when you had to send them off and wait a week to get them back?) and realised I had no pigging idea who that bloke is with their arm wrapped round me.
I’ve spent hours on my hair and makeup hoping I look the bees knees only to realise the photos REALLY didn’t do me justice!
I shouldn’t have to explain myself when I turn down a drink but I always feel I have to. I tend to drive everywhere now so I’m less expected to drink. I don’t feel I need it to have a good night but others seem to think there’s no point going out without a drink in their hand, which is completely up to them – just don’t pressure me into doing the same.