…and it absolutely crawls when you’re not. February’s the shortest month of the year. It certainly didn’t feel like it this year because I decided to spend the month not drinking. Now, lest you start thinking that I have some sort of unacknowledged alcohol dependency, I don’t. And I offer the fact that I haven’t had a drink for 28 days as evidence for that. It’s just that not doing something that you normally do takes more effort than doing it. Instead of going out for a drink after work on Friday, what do you do? You either have to make a plan to do something else, or you do nothing, and doing nothing is dull.
January (well, December and January. Well, summer) was a time for afternoon drinks in the sun, evening drinks, long lunches – with drinks. I didn’t break any of my normal strictures, since you can’t drink on a work night when you’re on holidays, but I did feel that I was drinking more than what I’d admit to drinking when asked by a doctor. Or, should I say, given that I usually do some mental maths when answering that question, more than twice what I’d admit to. In other words, I felt that it wouldn’t do me any harm to give it a break.
Going out for dinner is fun. Going out for dinner somewhere where there’s a lovely wine list, and not being able to have a glass just feels arbitrary. Telling a waiter that you don’t need to see the wine list and then being presented with a range of sweet, fizzy alternatives that really don’t enhance the food you’ve ordered is disappointing.
The worst part of Febfast, though, was that without any other effort I lost a few kilos. This means that unless I’m prepared to have them back (which I’m not, really) I’m going to have to make some other changes now that I’ll be having those glasses of wine and gin and tonics. Boo.
Congratulations for making it through with no cheating. Enjoy your first sip and I hope it is something nice.