Requiem to a Hangover
The morning after, that horrible feeling of being useless. Useless and void of most energy.
Empty but not totally.
You don’t think the whole world is against you. You don’t think life sucks that much that the M*A*S*H theme song is playing through your head. Quietly though, on a very low volume because your head is banging against its seams and everything feels like exploding.
You had a great time the evening and night before. Plenty of Martinis and later Gin & Tonics when you became too lazy to mix more dry to very dry Martinis. Of course not dirty ones, they’re for the Sex in the City crowd. Dry to very dry Martinis, the glass held up in the direction of Italy.
Your adult misbehaviors aren’t limited to the city life after all.
That last drink, as usual, was the one too many. It’s always the last one that does you in. Time after time. Yesterday was no exception and now you’re hungover.
But not miserably hungover. Just a medium-sized hangover.
You still have energy yet not that much. The alcohol is still playing tricks on you.
“Damn you!”, for not first enjoying some lovely bread with oil and lots of olives (or sardines) before but it was a spontaneous night, an impulsive bender you went on.
The morning after buzz is just that little too strong to still enjoy it but you’re nowhere near the state of wanting to hold your head in your hands all day long and wallow life and the world.
Basically, you know how to drink and how to avoid the worst.
Alright, alright. You started the evening with Mojitos before you switched to Martinis. Maybe that was a mistake, especially on such a hot evening. Those lemonade’y mojitos flow way too well, but still you know how to pace yourself... usually.
Today you’re only suffering a medium hangover and secretly... you love them. That’s right, you love that type of hangover.
In a guilty pleasure way of loving it.
Most days, for months already - maybe even years - you try to improve your living style and eating habits but the day after rien ne va plus.
All you want, all you pine after right now is a healthy level of grease.
But first, of course, a Prairie Oyster #1.
With brandy, not the mocktail variety. Yes, you love a great corpse reviver.
If last night you were too drunk already to end the evening with a Bloody Mary with egg yolk, now you need the all guns blazing approach and ketchup, egg yolk, Worcestershire sauce, and brandy (not the stripper, the drink) it shall be. Not to forget the chili sauce. Because you’re an alpha and no Prairie Oyster is complete without chili sauce.
You’re hungover after all and your mission today is to maximize the guilty pleasures of being hungover. Hungover without being totally wasted and fully useless. But too hungover to care about doing anything, let alone working.
The immediate hair of the dog is slightly too
chav harsh an approach for you and you don’t like how it immediately gets you going again, makes you want more. Even though you sneakily think always’ a good time for a Martini, right, but you’re not that big a fan of immediately starting again.
Not hair of the dog style.
Next, next comes the guiltiest pleasure of the day. For now at least.
That super greasy fry up.
Normally you should now grab one of those lovely mushroom or beetroot burgers. What with your healthy eating habits, right? But today, today you’re a sinner. Because, after all, you’re a dietarian and not an ethical vegan.
One day sinning isn’t the end of the world, right. Even though, technically, this is your second consecutive day of day sinning already.
Crispy and greasy bacon, almost as greasy sausages, oven heated tomatoes, eggs, more ketchup. All guns blazing, indeed.
As if that wasn’t enough yet, an ice cold Diet Coke to flush it all through with.
Guilty as charged. Unhealthy to the max but who cares. Main thing is a speedy recovery. And you had whole wheat toast nevertheless.
A recovery required because the guiltiest aspect of this type of hangover, and its cure, is that come early evening you’ve pretty much recovered.
Recovered but you still feel slightly useless, useless because you just wasted a whole day away doing nothing. It could have been worse though, you could have wallowed the world but luckily you weren’t that hungover. You know how to drink.
Then, eventually, it comes. The moment you’ve worked towards to all day long. The best way to get rid of that feeling of uselessness.
The belated hair of the dog.
That first cold frozen one, perfectly poured with two fingers of foam. Or maybe another mojito or a daiquiri even. Frozen or not, as long as it’s super refreshing and great to start the next day.
Because, now, finally, you’re back in business, baby!
The cautiously triggered medium-sized hangover. A guilty pleasure, such joy.
The cautiously provoked medium-sized hangover, two days of fun.