Monday, August 23, 2004
I am getting old.
This weekend, we went to San Antonio to celebrate my dad's birthday.
We had a glass of wine at the house and some snacks. We had a nice dinner, with more wine, dessert, and espresso. And we watched the second half of the Cowboys game when we got back to the house.
I could not go to sleep because my stomach was upset.
If I feel sick at night, it's because I've had too much to drink, eaten really, really rich food, eaten too much food, or all three. But I did not drink too much. I did not eat too much.
Before dinner, I had one glass of pinot and some slices of cheddar. I also had three sesame crackers. At dinner, I had pasta in a light butter sauce with mushrooms. I had a salad with oil and vinegar. I had three escargot and some warm, crusty French bread. I drank three glasses of cabernet, one espresso, and a small, creamy tiramisu.
B says I am just getting old, that my stomach won't let me eat whatever I want anymore. I agree that I cannot eat just anything anymore—for instance, prime rib with bearnaise is almost guaranteed to make me feel really gross all night. Likewise, no matter what I eat, if I have more than one glass of whiskey, I'll be violently ill. I know these things about myself.
But angel hair with a light butter sauce and mushrooms? Salad with oil and vinegar? Three glasses of wine with dinner? None of these things ever affect me negatively. I didn't even FINISH my pasta because I could tell I was getting full, and I didn't want to stuff myself. And all my self-restraint was worth NOTHING. NOTHING.
I don't want to get old if this is what it means.
We had a glass of wine at the house and some snacks. We had a nice dinner, with more wine, dessert, and espresso. And we watched the second half of the Cowboys game when we got back to the house.
I could not go to sleep because my stomach was upset.
If I feel sick at night, it's because I've had too much to drink, eaten really, really rich food, eaten too much food, or all three. But I did not drink too much. I did not eat too much.
Before dinner, I had one glass of pinot and some slices of cheddar. I also had three sesame crackers. At dinner, I had pasta in a light butter sauce with mushrooms. I had a salad with oil and vinegar. I had three escargot and some warm, crusty French bread. I drank three glasses of cabernet, one espresso, and a small, creamy tiramisu.
B says I am just getting old, that my stomach won't let me eat whatever I want anymore. I agree that I cannot eat just anything anymore—for instance, prime rib with bearnaise is almost guaranteed to make me feel really gross all night. Likewise, no matter what I eat, if I have more than one glass of whiskey, I'll be violently ill. I know these things about myself.
But angel hair with a light butter sauce and mushrooms? Salad with oil and vinegar? Three glasses of wine with dinner? None of these things ever affect me negatively. I didn't even FINISH my pasta because I could tell I was getting full, and I didn't want to stuff myself. And all my self-restraint was worth NOTHING. NOTHING.
I don't want to get old if this is what it means.
