One of my best friends came over after a rather stressful week at work for a dinner and some back deck wines. You know those friends who drink too much? You wake up in the morning with a raging hangover (and man, there is nothing — nothing on this earth like a red wine hangover) and look at the table and see the wine bottles, all the cheese and crackers on the table and shudder.
I usually have an alternating hot and cold shower, drink 50 gallons of soda water and go back to bed and feel sorry for myself. Bazz will come in occasionally, pat my back and wipe my brow with a cool wash cloth.
Anyway, the following morning I woke up with a particularly bad hangover. It seemed to be concentrated on the right side of my face, at the top of my head. I sort of rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but as I tried to get comfortable I felt this sort of rustling on the pillow and the pain in my head just got worse. I felt like I had a tight beanie on my head and I couldn’t get it off. I sat up and my husband took one look at me and rolled over and pushed his face into the pillow and made all of these awful sounds into it.
Look, I know I’m no oil painting but I felt that was a bit harsh. I mean, who looks their best first thing in the morning? Who? Does anyone remember Lauren Hill when she was in the Fugees? Well this is my hair in the morning. My hair sticks straight up. My face seems to rearrange itself to be in places that it shouldn’t be, like a few eyelashes end up on my chin and I have those pillow sleep makes all over my face. I just can’t sleep pretty. My husband knows this, so I don’t really understand why all of a sudden he was howling into his bloody pillow.
I sat up and felt something flop forward onto my face, I tugged to get it off but that just caused a terrible sharp pain! Whatever it was it was firmly stuck onto my forehead and eyebrow.
Look, I could use words like ‘feminine hygiene product’ or ‘special lady time equipment’ (this is what Bazz calls it) but I think it’s just easier if I am clear.
The wing was firmly plastered across my eyebrow and the rest of it stuck into the fringe of my hair.
I have no idea how this happened. I had a vague recollection of trying to achieve something the night before, possibly in my inebriated state I had ended up with the thing stuck to my hand and then I touched my hair. I have no idea. All I know is that it took a good hour and the removal of half of my fringe and most of my right eyebrow to un-stick the dam thing.
Looking at that dodgy brow is a reminder to not drink too much, fortunately by 5pm, I have forgotten about it.