I have long stood by the theory that you don’t have to drink to have a good time, but I also believe that to have a good time, *someone* should be drinking. And I prefer to be a someone. I love to have a good time, and I love to do so by way of a drink or four. But because I know that’s not the only kind of good time there is, I decided to give up alcohol for Lent. Because, I can be naturally fun, right? Right?!
To be honest, my experience was nothing short of lackluster, but if you are a generally functioning person with a twinge of curiosity about what it might be like to intentionally abstain from alcohol for longer than the lifespan of an antibiotics prescription, may I suggest that you just read what I’ve learned from this experience and never try it for yourself. If you suspect your body and mind could really benefit from discovering a world outside of booze, you’re probably right and also we shouldn’t be friends. Bless.
Hangover-free is not really hangover-free.
Expectation: wake up Sunday morning with a bright and energized outlook on life, ready to take on the day, probably ride your bike somewhere that sells antiques and organic rhubarb.
Reality: wake up Sunday afternoon with a sleep hangover because you went to bed at 9 and you now haven’t eaten in 16 hours. At least if you’d gotten drunk you’d have a solid layer of 3a.m. nuggets and fries holding you over on your groggy crawl to the couch.
Working out is easier, but not more rewarding.
Let’s say you make it to the gym on Sunday. You’re probably just on an ego trip because you got your sports bra on before your roommate even got her sticky boobs off, so you probably won’t even try very hard. You’ll run around the block and call it three miles. Everyone’s too dead to question you anyway, right? Throw in six sit-ups and 15 minutes of mindless stretching, wander home by way of Target because you deserve a new glass water bottle, and you’re done. On the other hand, the you that is carrying the weight of two buckets of Corona and a vague memory of late night fried munchies may not make it to the gym that Sunday, but when she does, she is champion of lethargy, the prevailing queen of a kingdom that will know another year in the same pair of skinny jeans. She earns those nights she can’t remember.
Going out sober is still fun, but up to a certain point.
If you’re a normal human, it stops being fun when everyone else starts being too fun. Your group turns into blubbering idiots, and your patience dies along with their coherence. Alternatively, if you’re a patient angel, it stops being fun when you realize all the bouncers have forgotten your name and that one hot DJ won’t replay Rihanna for you anymore. Also, where did the idiots go? Also, why is everyone so sweaty? Are they always this sweaty? Cue your Uber. Oh that’s right, you drove.
You don’t save money.
Because of course you go into this thinking “I’m going to save so much money!” and then each week, you find yourself more and more liberally purchasing obscure health foods and seriously more reusable water bottles than anyone could ever know what to do with. If I did save any money, you can bet your next bar tab it will be spent on my first night back in business.
All I can say is, “I did it!” and I’m never doing it again. I don’t suggest trying it, but mad respect if you do. Cheers bitches, I have a tolerance to rebuild..