But for some reason, when I'm pregnant I find myself craving some alcohol. I know what it is, really. It's the fact that such a choice has been taken out of my hands for the foreseeable future. Now that the choice isn't mine, I find myself wanting, wanting, wanting. Even if I am not really all that fond of it.
See, here's the thing. Alcohol turns me as red as a baboon's behind in about 2 or 3 sips. It just does. It's apparently something with Asians and our metabolism. We like to look like raging alcoholics when we're sipping on some wine at a dinner party. It's our thing. My throat also tends to close up and refuse any more alcohol when I'm at about the level of mildly tipsy (this usually takes about, oh, 5 or 6 sips of my coke with a dash of whiskey in it). It gets all raw and burny, fast, and my reflux starts kicking in like oh no she didn't. And when I'm tipsy, which I never am so it's an incredibly foreign and not always fun feeling, I get all worried that I'm going to look like a bumbling, red-faced clown, so I end up sitting in a chair and trying really hard not to talk too loudly (a problem even without alcohol) or too fast (again, a problem even without alcohol) and try not to make weird faces at people who try to offer me beer (ew).
So, really, I'm not missing out on anything. At all.
But damn do I want a drink!
After I gave birth to our son, 2 years ago, my husband went out and bought me some whiskey. It was sweet. I drank some of it probably 5 or 6 months after that.
As you can see, I drink a lot. In two years, I've barely touched the big bottle, and the little one has mostly disappeared into things like steak marinades and barbecue chicken.
Yet I find myself opening the cabinet and staring at them wistfully.
0 comments:
Post a Comment