My parents, still to this day even though I am well above the legal drinking age, judge me when I drink alcohol in front on them. Like the other day, when the guests were about to arrive to the parents' Christmas party, I discovered half a bottle of Limoncello just chilling on my parents' kitchen counter. Seeing as as I was just about done helping my mom cook, I figure I might as well make myself a generous drink of Limoncello and cream.
Of course my mother sees me pour a shot of Limoncello into a martini glass and immediately goes, "Do you always like to drink by yourself?" Knowing that my mom hardly ever drinks, it wasn't like she was getting upset that I didn't offer to make her one; she was clearly seeing this as a warning sign that I might just be indulging in spirits a bit too much.
I wanted to tell her that, as a person who is almost always intensely immersed in work, I frequently need a drink or two just to keep my sanity in tact. She wouldn't understand that though, so I just lie to her about wanting to try a new mixed drink recipe I saw online. Besides, I only drink once a week and Christmas day just happened to be that once-a-week occasion.
Later on, right before the guests arrive, I catch my mother whispering to my father in confidence but, strategically, loud enough so I can hear too:
"I am afraid that she drinks too much when she's at home by herself."
I sigh and walk away from the conversation and when the guests arrive I help myself to a full glass of wine and toast to a very Merry Christmas. If having an affinity for the finer spirits is wrong, perhaps I don't want to be right.