Barbara: Okay, so I’ve never been a big drinker, a drunk, a souse, or a lush. Nor am I a beverage aficionado. But I do like my glass of wine. I like the thought of it, the look, the bouquet, the taste (oh, yes, the taste!), the sensuous feel of the glass in my hand, and the slightly cock-eyed buzz, especially after a day-from-hell (and I’ve had my fair share of those). I was one of the first to join the legions who bowed in deference to the genius doctors who proclaimed a glass of wine a day a prescription for good health.
But the truth is: wine doesn’t frickin’ like me. Not anymore anyway. It’s like that smart, cool girl I covet to be my new buddy with all her sassy talk and “We have so much in common”, only to have her punch me in the guts when I am least prepared, taking me down, making me regret my rash rush to love and trust. I drink down that burgundy libation, enjoying every sip, savouring the flavours, the effect, and then BAM!—either a few hours later or the next morning—I feel nauseous or crampy or both. It isn’t fair!!! I mean, I’m such a responsible drinker! I like it and I want it! I frickin’ DESERVE it! And it could not give a shit. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. (I told you this was going to be a whine.)
So, I don’t know what to do. Or where we stand, wine and I, in our tortured relationship. I continue to lust after it and it continues to bait me with the occasional happy experience and then sideline me with its wrath. I swear off it for a while, but then I miss it. Or there’s a special event that begs for some chinking of glasses and swilling of booze…. Like a Friday.
It makes me think of a conversation Deb and I had a while ago. We were observing that it seemed like so many of our older female friends seemed to drink more than they used to—or at the very least, seemed to be more affected by alcohol, turning into the moony, drunken cougars of the ugly clichés. So is it that they/we can simply no longer handle our booze like we used to? Or am I alone in my whino-troubles?
Behind every older woman, is there a glass of wine that’s sick of her?
Deb: OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BARB! I am sick for you. As sick as you are yourself. I am here to assure you all that Barb is the most responsible drinker! I have never even seen her drunk. Tipsy maybe on a few (very few) evenings. How HOW can you be punished this way? Why has the grape turned on you, my dear? Why the hell can’t it be a cantaloupe reaction? I would be despairing myself. Not that I have a problem, as truly I do not. But I love my red wine. Look forward to it. Don’t over do it, but love it. Don’t drink hard liquor, but oy, the wine. We MUST fix this, Barb. Off to the Mayo Clinic with you. Do you think they will see it as the priority it is????????