I had a weekend that involved a lot of wine. Now, I like wine – I love trying new wines, be they white or red, and tasting the subtle flavours of each new glass – and I love the comfort of a glass of an old favourite. But I’m beginning to think that I like being drunk less and less. And maybe wine is a particular kind of drunk; where whiskey may be a more polite kind of inebriated, wine is a frayed around the edges kind of drunk that quickly goes from giggly to foot-in-mouth and overly acidic.
When I woke up yesterday (with a big thirst on me and a post-party depression that only a severe hangover can induce), I began to think that maybe it’s time to put aside drinking to excess. Perhaps it’s the amount of yoga I’ve been doing, or a month of teacher training, but I can see why yogis don’t drink. It’s the lack of control I don’t like – control of my speech, control of my limbs, control of my memory. I hate feeling like I’ve had a meaningful conversation with someone, but being unable to remember quite what was said … and if what I said was something I would say sober. It’s also the way my body feels the next day (dire) and the fact that I feel like I’ve poisoned myself a bit.
It’s that moderation thing I guess – I don’t really want to be drinking sparkling water at a party; it just isn’t the same, and not from a peer-pressure point of view, but rather from a wavelength and stamina one. Let’s face it – alcohol is fun. I think I just might enjoy it more if I took to heart the glass of booze, glass of water imbibing pattern!
Monday reading here: my winter wish list.