How I Ended Up With a Two Day Hangover

Lisa Webb
Written by Lisa Webb

I spent my 20’s sowing my wild oats. I could have given Quaker a run for his money with the fields of debauchery I planted. There wasn’t much holding back. I spent years thinking this was the time to enjoy myself because ‘one day’ I’d have to settle down.

Now, in my 30’s, I have the daily responsibility of keeping two small humans alive and well. Is this when the settling down is supposed to happen? 

The thing is, for the most part, I’m happy to slow things down and enjoy the Little House on the Prairie life we’ve got going on over here. But every once in a while, that wild oat farmer inside of me creeps up like a bad case of heartburn, aching for relief. I try and shove it back into the closet, sometimes I just want to lose the pony tail and yoga pants, put on some heels and dance on the tables in a bar where the music is far too loud.

This other personality is usually pretty easy to contain since I know she’s not really welcome at morning coffees and playdates. I started to think maybe I was the only one who is having a hard time trying to bury their internal firecracker…

I’m not. It’s like a dirty little secret that no one talks about unless you bring it up first. And once you bring it up, you’ll find out there’s a whole world of Moms out there longing to let loose.

But be careful opening Pandora’s box. When you’ve suppressed something for so long, all the wild that has built up inside you comes bursting out and it can be hard to keep control.

Let’s say that the blue moon is shining down on you and your 30 something self gets a chance to party like it’s 1999. After a few drinks you might feel like you’ve been teleported back 15 years. (Ugh, yes, it really has it been 15 years since 1999!)

Warning! You are not your old self! 

Your old self would stumble off the dance floor in the wee hours of the morning to find the greasiest food imaginable and not think twice about having a 1500 calorie bedtime snack. 

You’d go home and sleep it off, waking up whenever you were tired of sleeping. 

You’d call your friends to grab some lunch, then maybe go back home for a nap before you got ready to do it all over again.

Am I right? How did we sustain this lifestyle for so many years?

Let me tell you what the new you will look like.

You’ll lose yourself on the dance floor, shaking it like Shakira. Your tolerance is clearly much lower than it used to be. 

You’ll have the time of your life because you never go out anymore, and I mean never. 

You’ll return home and even in the cloud of wine that surrounds you, you’ll know that you don’t need to be eating at this hour because it will go straight to the Mommy muffin-top you’re trying to get rid of. 

You’ll kick off your heels and put your foot back into a flat position on the floor, and squeal when you discover your feet feel like they’ve been subjected to ancient Chinese foot binding. 

You’ll fall asleep, only to be woken up a few hours later by a tiny finger being stuck up your nose, asking for cereal, and maybe there’ll also be some tiny feet jumping on your bed, and your body. That is all the sleep you’re going to get.

You’ll crawl out of bed, wondering if something died in your mouth while you were sleeping.

You’ll feel three times your age, and you’d give anything to go back to bed, but you can’t because you have a toddler birthday party/swimming lesson/ dance recital/play date to go to.

You’ll vow to never do this again. You’re too old for this shit. 

Instead of being hungover for a couple of hours and hitting reset, it will barely be possible to function normally for the next 2-3 days. 

At what age did we start to have two day hangovers? Why are our bodies betraying us like this? After all we’ve been through together; how dare they? 

Aging is a cruel joke that the body plays on the mind. Just when you have a few exuberant hours of feeling like your carefree, past self; your body will promptly remind you of how very wrong you are. 

That ship has sailed. That girl doesn’t live here anymore.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go take an Aspirin.

Written by Lisa from Canadian Expat Mom
Blogger at: http://www.canadianexpatmom.com
Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Canadian-Expat-Mom/529854943797212

About the author

Lisa Webb

Lisa Webb

Lisa is the author behind the blog Canadian Expat Mom. She lives in the South of France with her husband and their two French-born daughters. When her family isn’t in the land of wine and cheese, they can be found exploring the globe with far too much luggage. Lisa is currently working on her first novel; a humerous memoir about her adventures in France that will leave you feeling like you just shared a bottle of Bordeaux with your best girlfriend. Follow Lisa on Facebook for more stories of travel and life in France.

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2 Comments

  • Yes we all have this problem!! Here in Medicine Hat we call it “mom drunk” and “dad drunk” reason being is we all go out (and it’s been months since out last outing) and we forget how low our tolerance to booze is. Which leads us 4-5 drinks in (used to be the little bit buzzed stage just starting to have fun) but now is the “sloppy bad dancing spilly drinking time to go home…oh wait it’s only 8 pm mom drunk” funny part is no one is actually at the bar yet as they start to come at 12am! There has Been quite a few times when my friends have come up to me and announced they are “dad drunk” and need to go home! How dare our bodies betray us like that, our brains still think we are 20ish…but the body is clearly where it’s supposed to be…damn you body!

  • And this is just the beginning of the downhill spiral of aging…but hang on there is hope: now in my sixties still feeling like in my 20’s the partying is mostly in my head or living vicariously threw my kids and I’m not feeling any of the pain.