Flashback Friday! (Hung Over)
Every Friday, I will post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!
And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memories, word for word, photogenically, I say:
What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!
If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.
Do you ever drink so much that you have a total and all-out blast?
And then get alcohol poisoning the next day?
I’m ashamed to admit that that was a semi-often occurrence for me in my earlier adult life, say from the age of around 17 up until the ripe older but still young age of 27.
Every time I was dizzy and throwing up, I would swear to myself that I’d never do that again. For about 10 years, I wasn’t so good at keeping that promise to myself.
But ultimately, as my life changed, I grew into a much healthier version of my old self (yes, therapy, yes, yoga, yes, discovering God and spirituality, yes to every other cliché you can think of, but hey, if it works, it works!). So that, combined with having 3 kids & the lack of drinking that automatically goes with being pregnant and breastfeeding, meant I had all but cut the stuff out of my life.
Every heard of Purim? It’s a Jewish holiday – or in my world, a Kabbalistic holiday, where you are supposed to dress up, listen to “the whole Megilah,” and drink. Or more specifically, get drunk.
As I mentioned, over the past 7 years, I’ve been either pregnant or breastfeeding every single Purim, so I haven’t been able to fulfill that last requirement. But this year… I am still breastfeeding, but not much. Time to get drunk, I said to myself!
And so I did.
And I had fun! I danced. I flirted. I badgered my husband mercilessly, and he was a great sport, he took it all in stride and we had fun together. I (allegedly – this part I didn’t remember at all until I got some mysterious texts and messages later “thanking me” for the talks, and then it all started to come back) – took friends aside and told them what they needed to change about themselves in order to reach their true potential, and generally did all the other fun things that you can only get away with when you are drunk and everyone else is either drunk or at least understanding of your drunkenness.
And then came the barfing.
All day Sunday. Heaving. Even when there was nothing left to throw up, I kept throwing up. (Sorry, to those of you who just ate.) My head spun. My skull felt like it was about to crack open. My husband racked up about a thousand Husband Points (yes, we do keep track, men, we have a whole secret scoring system) by letting me stay in bed all day and taking care of the kids even though he was also hung over and had only slept about three hours.
I felt badly that my daughter missed her beloved ballet class that day. I was too sick to take her. I felt stupid for mixing about 5 different kinds of alcohol and skipping the food – my 20 year old self would have rolled her eyes at my naïveté. And I was annoyed at myself that I didn’t remember until half the day was over that I needed to take a particular homeopathic remedy – Nux Vomica for all you alcoholics out there – that rapidly and most excellently erases all signs of alcohol poisoning (along with another 3 hour nap) .
But mostly? I was glad that I had gone a little crazy. Just for one night, and for a good cause. I guess sometimes we have to act like a stupid teenager again to remember why we’re so glad we are not stupid teenagers anymore!
Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)