I have discovered I can't quite hang like I used to.
Once upon a time, I would scoff in the face of debauchery. Weekends touted a never-ending stream of bar hopping and binge drinking, because well, I was in my early 20's and frankly that's what we did.
I could shot-gun a beer with finesse, funnel from the top of a banister, take shot upon shot, and still wake up the next morning (well, afternoon) and be ready to do it all again.
Now, 2 days after a class-act wedding, wine sipped and champagne fluted, and I am still in the lingering phases of the Cocktail Flu. Differing greatly from the Swine Flu mind you, the Cocktail variety comes complete with noise induced head-pounded, often worsened by the slightest of movement, nausea over the thought of food or beverage, and the horrific taste or feel of some foreign and unknown substances in the roof of your mouth and on your tongue.
How did I morph from extreme party gal to old fuddy duddy all by 30? Did motherhood suck the life out of my carefree booze-filled days and force me to suffer the consequences with jack-hammering vengeance?
I don't mind per say that I don't live the life I used to, it was mainly in excess I do concur. It was the typical life of the college coed, whether I was still in school or not by tailend is matter for debate. From 19 to 25 I had a pretty steady clip of going out to various clubs and bars, several nights a week. My retail existence had my mornings start no later than 10am so it was perfect. Sleeping in was practically required. Irresponsibility was my lifestyle. I answered only to me.
Then there was Dylan. At 25, a mother and cocooned in a life that left me mostly at home and usually miserable. Not because of him, but with everything else in my life. And maybe as he got a little older and I had my weekends freed up a bit, I went on a sort of reinvention of the old me. Going out with friends, recelebrating my heydays.
And then, with the lulls of the past year, with everything that has happened, it all again got put on the back burner. My social life lay dormant to responsibilities. I'm not complaining mind you, just stating facts.
Obligation after obligation, week after week. Seemingly popular with no life of my own. All plans made to revolve around someone else's life. I was happy to be there sure, but excited to see the light at the end of the tunnel, when it would all be over. The planning, the RSVPing. Waiting until once again I would have a weekend to make my own plans, to go out where I wanted, do what I wanted.
And after this weekend, I think once I get that chance, I may just rent a movie and nap. Shut off the phone, stay away from the computer. Shun the entire outside world and just be left alone, sit silent for one whole day, instead of going out on the town for yet another drink filled encounter.
Nope, I just can't hang like I used to.
Once upon a time, I would scoff in the face of debauchery. Weekends touted a never-ending stream of bar hopping and binge drinking, because well, I was in my early 20's and frankly that's what we did.
I could shot-gun a beer with finesse, funnel from the top of a banister, take shot upon shot, and still wake up the next morning (well, afternoon) and be ready to do it all again.
Now, 2 days after a class-act wedding, wine sipped and champagne fluted, and I am still in the lingering phases of the Cocktail Flu. Differing greatly from the Swine Flu mind you, the Cocktail variety comes complete with noise induced head-pounded, often worsened by the slightest of movement, nausea over the thought of food or beverage, and the horrific taste or feel of some foreign and unknown substances in the roof of your mouth and on your tongue.
How did I morph from extreme party gal to old fuddy duddy all by 30? Did motherhood suck the life out of my carefree booze-filled days and force me to suffer the consequences with jack-hammering vengeance?
I don't mind per say that I don't live the life I used to, it was mainly in excess I do concur. It was the typical life of the college coed, whether I was still in school or not by tailend is matter for debate. From 19 to 25 I had a pretty steady clip of going out to various clubs and bars, several nights a week. My retail existence had my mornings start no later than 10am so it was perfect. Sleeping in was practically required. Irresponsibility was my lifestyle. I answered only to me.
Then there was Dylan. At 25, a mother and cocooned in a life that left me mostly at home and usually miserable. Not because of him, but with everything else in my life. And maybe as he got a little older and I had my weekends freed up a bit, I went on a sort of reinvention of the old me. Going out with friends, recelebrating my heydays.
And then, with the lulls of the past year, with everything that has happened, it all again got put on the back burner. My social life lay dormant to responsibilities. I'm not complaining mind you, just stating facts.
Obligation after obligation, week after week. Seemingly popular with no life of my own. All plans made to revolve around someone else's life. I was happy to be there sure, but excited to see the light at the end of the tunnel, when it would all be over. The planning, the RSVPing. Waiting until once again I would have a weekend to make my own plans, to go out where I wanted, do what I wanted.
And after this weekend, I think once I get that chance, I may just rent a movie and nap. Shut off the phone, stay away from the computer. Shun the entire outside world and just be left alone, sit silent for one whole day, instead of going out on the town for yet another drink filled encounter.
Nope, I just can't hang like I used to.
you should just sit on your couch and drink beer a couple days a week until you can hang a little bit better. Think of it as training for your next outing. Do olympic athletes just show up to the olympics expecting to win the gold without practice practice practice?? NO! That's crazy talk. Now crack that beer and get to work.
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