Water and wine

A few weeks ago I, by some karmic oversight of the universe, found myself having dinner at a fantastic little restaurant with a ridiculously gorgeous man. In retrospect I have no idea how I came to be in that position, but when I got there I was fortunately too busy worrying about the kids and the nanny to notice, and by the time I had stopped worrying about them I was relaxed already, so I missed the panic, and had a lovely evening with a friend.

Anyway what was so great about this dinner, aside from the perfect gentleman I was having it with, was the water, and the wine!

In the entire time we were there I never touched the bottles on the table. While I was (unsuccessfully) trying to slurp spaghetti into my face in an elegant fashion (ha ha ha) my glasses were both being seamlessly topped up for me. Okay, so I have no idea how much wine I actually drank, but I felt (lord help us) like a lady.

It was so nice to be treated like something other than a human face wiping device (home) or general mad person (work) that I almost forgot myself. What I really loved though was how drinking a good red wine with a glass of water and a good high carb meal left me feeling sort of well and glowing rather than slurred and hungover. When I awoke the next morning I felt great. I didn’t have nearly as many cringe worthy memories of stupid things I had said as I should have had for someone who had been allowed in public with alcohol, only the normal amount that I would say sober anyway. I felt, healthy, and actually, quite calm.

I strongly suspect that I may have relaxed and enjoyed myself.

And now that a few weeks have past I have bought myself another bottle of red wine. I realised just how beneficial the odd glass with dinner (and water) can be.

Having grown up around a small town of heavy drinkers I have always been wary of alcohol in any form. What a wonderful thing it is to discover how a good thing in moderation can actually be a good thing. I guess this means I am really in my thirties now. I was so scared of giving up my twenties and essentially my wild youth (okay so it still hurts a little to think about it in as many words) that it didn’t occur to me that all of the older people who were telling me that their thirties were so much better than their twenties may actually not just be trying to make me feel better, but be telling the truth.

Viva thirty, water and wine.

Here is to the next ten years of healthy moderation.

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