I attended Rachelle's christmas party last night. This was my first, big social gathering since The Shit Officially Hit The Fan the first of November. And since I'm not drinking, I was a smidge apprehensive. Would I be able to be social? Would people talk to me? Would I feel so awkward I would completely sweat through my red, velvet top?
Well, I wasn't too social, people did talk to me, and I hardly sweat at all because it was 29 degrees out and I just couldn't get warm, despite the hot tea I drank all night. And I had a pretty good time.
I drink because I'm insecure. Period. In big social gatherings, with alot of strangers, I don't feel pretty, I don't feel funny and I can't talk about thesises or politics or referendums because I know nothing about that stuff. So I start slamming back the wine/jack/hot buttered rum.
I had given myself permission last night to have one glass of wine. One. But I never had it. I watched the rest of the group (with the exception of McP and Darragh and Val, a friend of Rachelle's) get absolutely shitty and it completely opened my eyes. I saw one woman, in particular, go through a complete metamorphosis over the span of five hours. When I got there, at 7:30pm, she was very well put together, her hair was styled, she stood tall in her boots and her eyes were bright and smiling.
When I left at 1:00am, her hair was wild, her eyes were half closed, she was slouched on a bar chair and she was damn near shouting. And it hit me - that's me at almost every party.
And that is ugly.
At the end of the night, I was still standing tall, looking good (oh yes I was), steady in my boots and although my eyes were heavy because I was exhausted, they were clear. I drove myself home safely and woke up this morning (okay, this afternoon) feeling freakin' fantastic. I didn't make an ass of myself, I didn't say anything inappropriate (I don't think), I didn't spill red wine on Rachelle's white carpet and I didn't make out with anyone I shouldn't have. Okay, I didn't make out with anyone at all. Poo.
I don't eat much at all. Okay, this may not sound like an epiphany to you, but there's more. Rachelle made meat balls, gingerbread, cookies, some cheese log thing, there were chips and crackers and nuts......all kinds of goodies. And I didn't eat a damn thing. Nada. I had some pasta before I left the house, knowing I wouldn't want to go there hungry and eat a bunch of crap, but I didn't have the slightest bit of interested in anything. The meatballs looked good, I can always eat me some cheese, and the bowls of nuts sat right in front of me the entire night and I ate nothing. Well, I had one cashew. Shaun made me. It's a long story.
Think of how many calories I saved by 1) not grazing and 2) not drinking. And then today, I made two eggs and two pieces of toast for breakfast (and three cups of coffee.....gotta have a vice) and then didn't eat anything until dinner, just a few minutes ago. I remember not being able to stay out of the kitchen. I would get bored and go through the pantry munching on chips or nuts, then into the fridge to get some cheese, then back to the pantry for another cracker or three. I just don't wanna anymore. Something inside me has just flipped. Maybe I'm in a better space now so I don't feel the need to compensate my unhappiness with food? It's all very deep.......
The true test will be when I'm at my parents'. I tend to graze a lot when I'm there. They always have chips and chocolate and I end up buying cheese and crackers (they're like my security blanket).
7-11 rocks. I was out of milk so I walked two blocks to the friendly neighborhood store. I got the milk, then just looked around to see what else they carry in case I find myself in need again. They have Ben & Jerry's Half Baked Frozen Yogurt. I debated for a good three minutes about that one. I ended up getting some pizza rolls (another vice) and a Sunday paper and was pleasantly pleased with my 7-11 experience. I wholeheartely recommend them for your basic grocery needs.