I’m pregnant, sober, and seeing booze in a new light
During the last six months I’ve had to stop drinking. Pregnancy and alcohol are a “no-no,” and I haven’t felt like it anyway.
Enforced “dryness” has been interesting. It’s made me think twice about who I want to socialise with and also made me reflect on the drinking habits I’ve established over the last few years.
When you’re not drinking and hanging out with people who are, and “getting on it,” the scene quickly becomes intensely boring.
It’s during about the third round that I start to get twitchy and by the fifth I find myself wanting to make a swift exit.
The third round is when the drinker sense of humour starts finding its voice yet what they find funny, I don’t. Did I ever? Not sure now. Two rounds later and the chat stinks. I find I am not on the same conversational wave length as the drinker and I find I have to work really hard to hold a conversation with them.
By the sixth round I just want to go and I think everyone else probably wants me to leave too.
Having a non drinker sit beside you during an alcohol fuelled catch up is like having a visible, guilty conscience perched on the bar stool.
I know because back in my drinking days I was often the one willing the abstainer to leave me and whoever else in peace to enjoy the night or afternoon without having to reflect upon my binge drinking ways.
I haven’t turned into miss holier than thou now just because I can’t drink. I definitely miss the buzz of having a couple, which is probably why I dislike being around people getting pissed.
Perhaps I was more addicted to alcohol than I cared to admit?
Monday to Wednesday I’d exercise lots, eat minimally and feel like a saint. By Thursday evening I would be gagging for a glass or two of red.
On Friday night whether I was at home or out I could drink up to a bottle plus - depending on how good the night was.
Feeling at a loose end on a Saturday arvo would result in more drinks with friends, dinner out with bottles of wine often followed by an after dinner trip to the pub or a bar, or even possibly a trip back to someone’s house for another few.
A Sunday hangover would mean all day grazing and a glass or two of red at lunch time to make me feel better and possibly, if I was feeling really greedy, another glass around 6pm.
It was no real surprise then that I often woke up on Monday feeling in need of another weekend.
Even when I attempted to hang my drinking boots up for a two week dry spell my will power usually crumbled by the fifth or sixth day.
Looking back upon my weekly habit in shock forced me to go and compare drinking notes with friends – I think to make myself feel better
While many said they probably consumed no more than six to eight units a week a couple of girlfriends admitted to finding their self control had gone out of the window in recent years.
Another confessed that more often than not one drink opened the door for a “huge night” and the only way to stop that behaviour was to go cold turkey from time to time and drive everywhere.
What many of us late 20s early 30s drinkers had in common was the ability and desire to consume more alcohol than we had in our early twenties.
Until at least the age of 25 my large nights out would often consist of no more than three glasses of wine.
I didn’t want to drink more - it just wouldn’t go down. So, how I wonder, over the next three years, did I manage to slip down the binge drinking slope?
I guess pregnancy, apart from being a massive gift, has also given me the chance to break what was turning into a rather bad habit.
Hopefully, when I return to the bottle it’s just one or two glasses not the whole thing.
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@mooks83 sophisticated response. Think the kids parents saw it differently
More class from 9's footy show, lampooning a baby that allegedly looks like Sterlo with a pic swiped from Facebook http://t.co/BGoYP6Pn68
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