The day has apparently come where I’m writing blog posts defending hangovers, so lol sure ok that’s good.
But anyway, yeah, last weekend… OH GOLLY.
It was my first big girl hangover in oh, just a casual fifteen months.
The kind where you wake up, and as the room starts to come into focus and the reality of y’know, being alive, starts to sink in you’re like BUT HOW THE FUCK WILL I MAKE IT THROUGH THE DAY.
Which as you can imagine, is just extra dandy when you have a five-month old to look after.
And I mean, at first it was rough. There I was ordering extra hash browns at the McDonald’s Drive Thru in order to soak up the shots (Shots? Shots? SHOTS?) still skulking about in my bloodstream. (I wasn’t the driver just as a lil safety FYI).
And then there was the moment when I checked my online banking and saw that yep, sure, of course, I’d paid for the shots because duh.
And the moment I remembered a random man had paid for my large portion of 1am chips because there was a £5 minimum card spend.
And the moment I remembered having a chat with a homeless man about how his ‘the one who’d got away’ was also called Hannah.
Y’know, all the standard stuff that makes for a cracking night out.
But then, as the fog started to lift, I realised that actually – and hear me out here – I was actually somehow enjoying being hungover?
If you follow me on social media you’ll know that lol my life is pretty full-on at the moment.
My brain is constantly darting between nappy changes and replying to emails and feeding the cats and baby nap battles (this sounds a lot like baby rap battles and now I would quite like to hear a baby rap battle tbh) and outfit shooting and meetings in London and nurse appointments and texting friends back and editing Instagram photos and hello slowly drowning.
And being hungover somehow helped me escape my own head for a bit.
I gave no shits about anything – aside from surviving. And y’know, making sure my baby also survived. And OK yes, I also gave quite a lot of shits about knowing where my next portion of carbs were coming from. But you get what I’m saying.
My phone remained shoved on a shelf somewhere for the most of the day, I wasn’t trying to mentally plan something cute to wear for an Instagram shot or somewhere equally cute to shoot it. I wasn’t putting things on Instagram stories or checking if I’d gained followers of faffing about with affiliate links or checking emails.
I wasn’t thinking about house work, or work work, or any work.
In fact, I wasn’t thinking about much at all.
I spent a large part of the day lying horizontal.
I pulled out a big blanket in the shady part of the garden and dragged all the baby’s toys out and just sat with him and chatted with him and played with him and sang with him, without the usual chatter at the back of my mind telling me about all the things I needed to do.
I actually, and this is wild, somehow felt like I was a better parent whilst hungover.
More chilled out, more patient, more in the moment.
Less trying to do approximately 75456 things at once. More giving my baby my undivided attention.
I dunno, it’s like it gave me a glimpse into a different life. One where I wasn’t a working mum, or a mum who likes to juggle 7328567 balls at once because AIN’T ADRENALINE AND LIVING ON THE EDGE FUN?!
A life where I lived a little slower, switched off a bit more.
And whilst I’m not in a rush for an 8 out of 10 hangover every weekend (9 being OH GOD I AM THROWING UP and 10 being THERE IS NO CHANCE I WILL SEE TOMORROW), I do think the mindset it puts me in is something I can definitely learn from.
Maybe even something I can aspire to?
I might have looked like an absolute bag of mouldy cat food (my mother-in-law asked if I was tired when we went to pick Atti up, lol lol lol), and tbh I felt pretty horrendous too – but mentally I felt better than I have in a long time.
And that, my gals, is why I’m writing a blog post bigging up the humble hangover.
That, and the fact that when I look back at my early twenties, it’s not even the nights out with my mates that stand out, it’s the days that followed. The blurry mornings in tracksuit bottoms praying I wasn’t tagged in anything on Facebook, and the afternoons spent napping through crime documentaries with my mates.
Now if you don’t mind me, I’m swearing off alcohol for at least a week.
Can confirm I was v much not hungover when I took these photos just FYI.