Sometimes after a stressful day or a difficult week I like to chill out. Supper, candles, a little classical music on in the background while I enjoy a carefully selected wine.
Bollocks!
When it’s been a shitty few days I kick back on the sofa in my scruffs with no make up or bra, my hair scraped back, necking whatever wine was on offer at the local shop while stuffing my face with a takeaway. Sometimes I’m with a friend, other times I’m alone. But my go-to chill out method is less classy and more trailer park. And you know what? I do not give a fuck.
It’s all well and good to champion the YOLO attitude, til I wake up with my face in my kebab, the dogs have shit in the kitchen, the neighbours are making loads of noise and I’ve got my very own road works taking place inside my head.
Hangovers are absolute murder.
I feel like since I hit 30 my entire body just went ‘nah mate’. Everything is broken! I’ve got nerve problems, eczema, asthma flare ups, high blood pressure... it’s like the bloody thing is on strike and as a result my hangovers are on a whole new level.
You ever been hungover with kids to look after? Kids are anarchists - they do not give a shit. It’s like they sniff out any sign of weakness and strike while they can.
Average hangover recovery for me at this point is approximately three to five working days. It’s utter torture.
Why is it we get older and the fun stuff has bigger consequences? Why do my dogs only choose to shit in the kitchen when I’m so hungover I can’t even speak English? Why do my neighbours choose hungover days to mow their lawns at 8 fucking am?!
I’d just like to enjoy my wine in peace without the impending doom of a thirty-something hangover, thanks. Bloody rude.
L xx
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