I am currently recovering from my first all-nighter in a long, long time. And boy does it hurt.
I drank a lot. So much that most of my dieting work has been undone in one fell swoop, or so it feels. I’ll feel guilty about that when I stop feeling zombified; until then I’m locked in horrible spiral of regret and fear for my stomach and liver. At least one of those regenerates so as long as I don’t get cancer I should be fine.
I’ll probably only have a resigned moment of mourning for the diet, honestly. I had a lot of fun and I have always got back on the diet wagon after a binge like this – and rarely have that many binges any more. At twenty-seven, I think I still handle it okay – the others are still in bed – but I am definitely going to wait awhile before drinking so much again. I had half a litre of rum, a whole bottle of mead, two pints, half a shot of absinthe and a few other things. Variety is the spice of live, right?
On the note of spice, I got the others to try one of my hot sauces. Ever heard of a company called Psycho Juice? No? Probably for the good of your taste buds and stomach lining. They make some great sauces – hot and tasty, honestly. But very hot. Very, very hot. They have a 70% ghost pepper sauce that I swear burned a hole in the side of my stomach before I threw it up the first time I tried it. Two friends tried it last night, one handled it better than they other but they both chucked it right back up pretty soon afterwards and I can’t blame them. We all agreed it was almost worth the agony and torment for the deep, thrumming sense of relief that it had passed. It washes over you like a Zen blanket, allowing you to enjoy every single step of your recovery.
I wish I felt that now. I considered doing some so I could throw up, but I think I’ve got nothing left in my stomach – it’s past the point of no return, and I don’t want to dredge it up from there quite frankly! So I’m going to stick with my mistake and marinate awhile.
But I can own this mistake. I can make it mine, and acknowledge my errors and I can recover from it. I’ll be okay, and so will my diet. I’m going to try and rediscover some of my old uni habits for recovering from hangovers – sadly I think I’ve forgotten them all except eat lots of stuff and curl in a ball. Tips welcome.
Yeah, the eating lots of stuff doesn’t help with the diet but in this grim time I’ve created a Rimmer-like schedule of exercise. Seeing as how I wasn’t doing anything this morning anyway though so it seems okay. I think the schedule will help me stick to it and get some real progress made. When the weather picks up that’ll help too, but that’ll be a bit ahead from now.
My message is one of hope for those who think you’ve fallen off the diet wagon – you can trip, stumble, fail and flag, but you can always mount that baby back up and get on course again. It’s bump in the road, a minor diversion, and you shouldn’t stop yourself having fun because you’re worried that your diet won’t ever recover. Maybe don’t do a thirteen hour drinking session and have two dinners as part of it, but certainly still get drunk if you want to from time to time.
That’s about it now, some reflections of a drunk and some silver linings I guess. Hopefully some entertainment at the least!