The (Mum) Hangover IV
4 August 2019
Mr G Gin
Gordon’s Gin
LONDON
Dear Gordon,
I have been “brewing” about how you left me fearing following my first proper night out since conceiving Lottie 18 months ago.
You do not deserve the courtesy of a face to face serving of my opinion. Probably best too because I have too much to “wine” about for someone even as strong as you to “beer” in person (#pungamestrong).
As I’m sure you will agree, we have always had a real love hate relationship. We can be the best of friends and the worst of enemies.
When we spend time together, our relationship is the strongest from 5pm to midnight. However, depending on the day and the availability of your right hand man, Mr Schweppes Tonic to join in, that timeframe can be either extended or shortened. It is then that we share stories with laughter and joy. We listen to music, dance and eat endless platters. You make me feel powerful, funny and invisible. You get me and I want more of you.
However, like a “rose’ ‘”, you have your thorns. You can be misleading and deceitful. When I call it a night, you turn on me instantly. You leave me feeling broken. It is generally in those dark morning hours from 8.00am until 12.00pm (though that timeframe can be painfully extended until the evening or more commonly now the following day) that my deepest resentment towards you is held. We but heads, you make me tired, hangry, irritable, and often nauseated.
I hate the hoops you make me jump through to get over you each tiff we have.
Because light hurts me, I must sit in a dark room.
Because you make me thirsty but too traumatised to commit to only one type of liquid substance, I must buy water, Powerade, orange juice and chocolate milk.
Because you make me feel like you have split my head open with an axe, I must have Panadol but am not opposed to Pamol (#mumhack) if getting Panadol means I have to leave the confines of my dark room.
Because you make me so exhausted that I feel as though I could sleep at an ACDC concert but then won’t let me sleep, I must have coffee to function.
Because you give me a bottomless pit with a fierce appetite incapable of satisfaction, I must buy every type of food which does not require any form of preparation, heating, or cleaning up.
Because you remove any smidgen of pride I have in my physical appearance, or energy to do anything other than just be, I must only wear clothing so big and baggy that I can’t touch the sides no matter what position (although normally the foetal) I lie in.
Because I have a baby and for the reasons aforementioned, I must get through a day of what seems a lot like hell.
What used to be easily forgotten and forgiven is now not. You have shown a flagrant disregard for my parenting obligations and duties. We talked about this and you said you understood.
It is now as clear as your distilled undiluted self that the good in our relationship does not outweigh the bad. This is not healthy nor sustainable and I want nothing more from it.
I hope that you take from this letter some learning and give your next innocent victim the courtesy of a fighting chance.
Regards,
One very hungover mum.
P.S. You can come and collect your empty bottle whenever suits. I will leave it at the end of the driveway with the other bottles of Hendrix (#burn) which have taken me years to drink and have never once left me in the predicament you have.