I like a glass of wine. I like a couple of glasses of wine. And gin, gin is good. G&T on the balcony of a weekend evening. Or when I’m tired, or stressed. Or as a cure of anxiety. Or…
Yeah, so I’m not necking Gordon’s by the bottle and I don’t (usually) drink on school nights. But still: time to quit.
And after one month of no booze (and honestly, I haven’t even wanted it), I’ve sussed that all of that pious health-fad stuff is actually true.
- Feeling better (and I mean ‘singing in the shower and scaring the neighbours’ better)
- Sleeping better (along with some very wacky dreams)
- MUCH more energy (physical and mental, really WANT to get on and do things)
- Better memory (yeah, that’s kind of double-edged)
- Higher intelligence (seriously)
- Higher levels of creativity (VERY important!)
- I’ve lost weight (half a stone, or thereabouts)
- And saved money
But there are other things, more subtle things, that you don’t realise.
- Less junk food (why do booze and crisps and CHEESE always go together?)
- More time in the gym (you might as well, as there’s no wine)
- Better sense of humour (including at yourself, and that’s always a win)
- More even temper (cats are chuffed about this)
- Easier to relax (bizarre, but true)
- No lingering wisps of anxiety or depression (been replaced by a suffocating cloud of smug)
- And yes, even my periods are less moodswingy and painful
So… I may have to turn in my membership of The Order of St. Ethelbert the Inebriate, but I’m hoping my good brethren and sistren will forgive my blasphemy. The spirits are willing, but the flesh, as you grow older, just can’t handle it anymore.