I just incepted my mother into enforcing my sobriety.

There is a family history of alcohol addiction/abuse. My mother drinks to levels that… well. They are above recommended levels for daily intake. That’s her choice–she’s an adult. So long as she doesn’t get behind the wheel of a car, I don’t care.

(I do, however, think she’s in denial of this fact. And I hate that I cannot refuse a drink without it being a BIG FREAKING DEAL.)

Anyway, we were on the phone last night, so I thought I’d strike pre-emptively.

Me: Oh hey, I’m not drinking for three months.

Mother: Good for you!

Me: Yeah, I was drinking too much, so I decided to give up for three months and then only drink when I’m out/with friends afterwards.

Mother: Well, you know you can have two glasses of wine healthily, right?

Me: Yes, but the size of a “glass” is not the size of a standard drink. There are 7.5 to 8.4 drinks in a bottle of wine.

Mother: So about 150 mls.

Me (internally): No, that’s around 90 mls.

Me (out loud): Anyrate, it’s amazing how this sorts out the people who are uncomfortable with other people being sober.

Mother: Oh, I’m sure that’s not it.

Me: No, seriously. You refuse a drink, you shouldn’t have to keep refusing because they keep asking. It should be your choice. Personally, I like being a probationary driver, because it means I have an iron-clad excuse for not drinking alcohol.

Mother: Well, I would NEVER insist after someone said no.

Me (cheering internally while trying not to die of irony): Of course not.

(The other note here is that my mother LOVES being able to tell me to suck it up and just do stuff.)

Me: So, it’s a bit depressing, I won’t be able to drink on my birthday.

Mother (sternly): Well, if you can’t enjoy yourself without drinking then you should look at your relationship with alcohol. You can just have a lemon squash!

So. I may have just incepted my mother into enforcing my sobriety. Yay me? Now, if I can just get her to accept me leaving food on my plate, I’ll be golden.

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