Stage 1: Waking up still drunk. Thankfully my husband was fully prepared for this to be the case. Having rolled up at 2:30am, and apparently chatting at him for some time, he predicted I may be in need of a lie in (he told me that he ended up turning the light off in the attempt to stop me babbling on; it didn’t work). He and Rupes got up with the dogs at 7:30am leaving booze monster mummy to pass out again.
Stage 2: Waking up again at 11am, feeling surprisingly OK (potentially still a little tipsy). The false hope of a hangover free day was very short lived unfortunately. I did make the most of feeling relatively normal by having a little play with Rupert.
Stage 3: Food. Hunger had kicked in big time. I needed carbs, a substantial amount in order for me to survive the rest of the day. We ordered a Subway, footlong – obviously, and the wait was agonising. I kept swinging from ‘I’m going to eat all the food in the world’ to ‘Am I hungry or just feeling sick’ to ‘I’m going to vomit’
Stage 4: After food regret. It didn’t sit well. Rupes was having his afternoon nap which meant that he was spared from seeing his Mother in the desperately pathetic state of food sweats and heartburn. And let’s not forget the classic post-booze feeling that you may soil yourself at any moment. I could not laugh, cough or sneeze with confidence.
Stage 5: Rupert woke up and so I attempted to pull myself together. I managed it for all of 10 mins before feeling I may a) collapse into a heap on the floor b) spin out and collapse into a heap on the floor c) have a panic attack, spin out and collapse into a heap on the floor. This was the lowest stage of the day without a doubt. I couldn’t look at anything that moved without going all spacey, and it was like I was reading a foreign language when I tried to read The Very Hungry Caterpillar to Rupert.
Stage 6: It was quite late in the day now and finally acceptable for hair of the dog. The first few sips of beer nearly came straight back up, but I knew the final goal of feeling normal would be achieved by this method (it’s been tried and tested many times during my life!) so I persevered and I’m now thanking the beer gods I did. Life is back on track again! Dancing to advert music resumed, singing nursery rhymes as passionately as Celine Dion in concert and lolling my way through the evening with recollections of last night. Hmmmm, maybe I’m slightly drunk again?!
My husband has commented on what a rollercoaster ride it’s been witnessing my journey of prosecco withdrawal. Pretty pleased to finally be off the hangover helter-skelter and back on the wine waltzer.
Was worth it though… Best night ladies 😘