Every memory of my mother involves her holding alcohol of some sort….. Family lunch? Glass or 6 of red wine. Family shopping trip? Pass mummy her small bottle of brandy for the road please. Hard day? Great day? Long day? It’s a random day? Didn’t matter that box of vino was out by 5pm at the latest, a daily celebration for making it through another day. She was never a sloshed, slurring mess, she was a coherent and (to the outside world) normal parent, who happened to be a functioning alcoholic.
And guess what? She’s now 62, looks 80, bones that shatter like glass, hair falling out, skin/eyes are a greyish yellow colour, she’s frail and exhausted, in constant pain and in spite of never smoking she’s had oral cancer a bunch of times.
All that drinking WILL catch up with Georgie someday, health is irreplaceable and no amount of driveway workouts or balsamic vinegar drizzle can improve the foundations you set for your future health, and if she thinks she’s so different from my mum…. may I remind her that Sienna will soon have memories of passing mummy her roadtrip cans…. just like me