THE STAGES OF A HANGOVER

Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Hema, because everyone has an opinion about it. But the weekend was kicked off at my favorite marina with a pan of mussels and a bottle of wine. That bottle got a bit out of hand and now I have a hangover. It wasn't even a huge amount, but I went from wine to lager to wine and you know how that goes. But as if I emptied a complete wine cellar, the anything but charming variant. That your eyes are so squinted that my favorite chef (the one with Asian roots) asks if I am related to him. Such a hangover. That's why you’ll have to wait for my exposition on the gender issue of Hema, I’m just not feeling it today. Stronger, I feel very different things. Things you probably recognize if you've looked too deeply into the glass.

Oh, little disclaimer. I look nothing like that freshly washed and well-rested specimen above in the photo today. Just so you know.

1. Why do I wake up? Why does my body do something so weird? Oh, the shivers. The boat is rocking (by the way, I slept on a boat, not that you think: huh, which boat or what kind of wrong Hangover script am I reading here?). Sour swirl in the stomach, pounding head, dubious taste in my mouth. I. Drink. Never. Again.

2. Whining for water from a friend, seas of water. Give me paracetamol, give me a bulk pack of Rennies, maybe a bucket wouldn’t hurt either. I never want to get up again.

3. Oh my dear, I have to get up. Maybe I just need to purge. I’ll probably feel fresher from that. No, better not purge, then I’ll keep feeling like this. Oh, I am soooo nauseous.

4. And then suddenly your body just plays tricks on you. Because it gives you hope that it will be okay. You have a brief revival where you suddenly start drinking orange juice. Liters, because extreme thirst. And you spread butter on croissants and dump eggs, ham, and cheese on top.

5. But five orange juices later, it turns out that wasn't such a good idea. As in: even more nauseous. Actually, I should also drink water, with paracetamol, but my stomach is already protesting against the paracetamol that might get stuck in my throat. Then coffee it is.

6. HAVE I COMPLETELY GONE CRAZY? Coffee, yuck. What was I thinking?

7. I need fruit, fruit is good. Fruit makes my life better. Fruit makes me the better version of myself. From now on, I will only eat fruit.

8. Man, man, man, how I crave a croquette. Or a hamburger with a layer of cheddar. Or one of those Cuban sandwiches from the movie Chef. From this moment on, I enter a stage of endless snacking until I go to bed again.

9. The fog seems to be lifting from my head. The daylight actually doesn't hurt so much anymore. My face could use a little makeup. I growl and snarl a bit less at everything that moves. This could still turn out to be a pretty good day. With an occasional little burp here and there, because my stomach still doesn't fully agree with the contents.

10. I am recovering. And honestly, with a hangover, you are also a lot funnier. Silly, goofy, not serious, giggly. When again?

Cheers to the weekend.