Last week, I went out with a group of friends with the intention of having one glass of wine; but a glass soon turned into sharing a bottle, which turned into another and the next thing I knew, I was waking up naked in the spare bedroom with an empty bag of crisps by my side.
‘Why am I in the spare bed?’ I called out to the Greek God(zilla).
Because you stank of cheese & onion, love.
I groaned and climbed back in next to him.
You still stink, love.
I hid my head under the covers, trying to piece together the remnants of the evening. I remembered arriving at a wine bar and having a very civilised evening. We ordered food, had a few glasses of wine and at about 9pm, we paid the bill and left.
Oh, then on our way home we stopped off at another pub to have ‘one for the road’.
I hadn’t been out with this set of friends for a while and the last few times, I had decided to drive to remain steadfast on my mission to lose weight. I was in the zone for many months, but last week I was wearing my other hat. The one that loves a glass of fizz and not just of the San Pellegrino variety. The one that makes me forget I pay for a membership to Slimming World and lets me order crisps, nuts and chips.
The problem with not getting out very much, is that I tend to get a bit over-excited and caught up in the moment when I do.
I have also yet to learn my limit.
It is two glasses. I know it, the Greek God(zilla) knows it, and anyone who has ever seen me do Cher on a Chair knows it. But, two glasses in is when I forget to switch to water. Two glasses in, is when I am having the TIME OF MY LIFE and wild horses could not drag me home.
Two glasses in and I do not wake up in the spare room, with the bright sun piercing my eyes because I was too drunk to pull the blinds down before crashing out on top of the bed.
At some point, I did remove my clothes – my shoes in the hallway downstairs, my jeans in the toilet and my jacket on the floor of the upstairs landing. My bra was flung over my handbag in our bedroom, although not the one I was banished to. The contents of my purse were scattered all over the ironing board.
I tell myself that my tolerance has changed as I’ve gotten older. Or, that I metabolise alcohol differently because of Hashimoto’s. Both are probably true. It is no bad thing that the opportunity to have more than two glasses does not often present itself.
I had a great night, but I do not enjoy the feeling of being drunk. I never sleep well after two much wine. The following day, all I want to do is sip tea, eat pizza and watch Netflix in bed. But, I have a 5-year old, so there is no time to be hungover and it is business as usual.
I closed my eyes again and hoped for 5 more minutes before facing the long day ahead.
Just then, little footsteps started pounding the floorboards in the room next door and stopped abruptly at our bed.
I reached my arms out for a big morning cuddle.
‘What’s that smell, Mummy?’