Reality check

I have no concept of the word moderation. It’s been revelatory searching my soul as part of this challenge and thinking back to when I first started consuming too much. I think that the last time I knowingly drank sensibly I was about, ooh, 11 years old, having my annual rum and coke on Xmas morning. Thereafter, I recall getting smashed for the first time at about 15 on red wine at a party and that was the start of that.

I gradually drank more as I went through my teens. What started out as one G&T with my mum on a Friday eve, soon became two or three, to keep her company. Then I’d have wine with my family on a Saturday and Sunday at dinner and always more than a few lagers whenever I went out. I wasn’t particularly encouraged by any one person – drinking was simply part of mine and my parents’ culture, and I took to it like a duck to water. My brother was much less bothered. He drank very little in his teens, preferring to drive places and work in a pub. He was happy making money behind the bar and although he drank more in his late ‘20’s, he is quite content to take it or leave it, even now.

One thing has definitely struck me though, about my motivation to drink as much as I could. It was all about keeping up with the lads. It was a badge of honour for me to be still standing after 5 pints, whilst lightweight males flaked around me. I enjoyed being recognised as a bird who could hold her drink (even if that wasn’t quite so true in reality) and was never satisfied unless I was competing to drink some man under a table - well, it was often a precursor to rolling into a bed with them, so who was I to argue!!. I thought it an achievement to outdo the guys and stopped at nothing to be seen as a ‘geezer bird’. At university I once downed a pint of milk to line my stomach for a £20 night – i.e. buy as much beer as you can with £20 and see how long you can make it last crawling round the pubs of Cardiff. The fact I hadn’t taken milk even at birth due to a lactose intolerance wasn’t going to stand in my way, so it was no surprise that I brought the milk back up before I even got out the door. I challenged many a French man (genetically lightweights) to drinking competitions on my years abroad. When I spent two years in a house share in Fulham, I was proud to be the only one still coherent after a birthday night out with my best male housemates.

Going out and having one glass of wine has always been unthinkable. Latterly I would always order a bottle on arrival at a pub/bar, regardless of the company, safe in the knowledge that it would be consumed (by me if no-one else). If I ever did drink moderately, I was either out with a teetotaller, work, or someone’s family who wouldn’t approve of excessive consumption. The relief on going home to my family or out with a big drinker was therefore palpable, as I knew the booze would never be rationed. Nothing made my heart sink more than the vision of a finite supply of wine. It would never occur to me to go to dinner at a friend’s house with less than 2 bottles of wine – one as a gift and one in case their stocks ran out early!

Actually owning up to all this to myself has left me feeling confused to say the least. When I started the blog, I was clear in my head that I hadn’t really got a problem. Ha!! Well that is one thing I can forget, as it’s pretty obvious when I plumb the depths that this is no exercise in temporary healthy living. The rot set in a long time ago and if I hadn’t stopped, it was surely only going to be a slippery slope on downwards. Anyway, enough self-flagellation and on to more positive matters such as my daily commitments. Today I have:
· Taken up brushing my teeth every night. Euch, yuck, urrgh I hear you cry. Yep, that’s right every night, not just when I remember or can be bothered. I had the dentist this week and he made it clear that I should be flossing more. I’m very lackadaisical about doing them nightly, although I never leave the house in the morning without a fresh mouth, so the only way to adopt good habits is to make the pledge;
· Given up sweets. Do you see a pattern here? The other day it was biscuits and so on. Ha ha. Other than the ginger ones I am sucking for my sore throat, I have to renounce all ‘K snacks’ as they are know in our house and resist, resist, resist the temptation when it is wafted in front of me! No more Percy Pigs or Jelly Babies or Fried Eggs or….the list is endless but the facts are simple. Nowt that resembles a fizzy, sugar laden confectionery. Not for me, no siree!

And as for thanks, well how about:
- I am thankful that I am losing weight down to the healthier me. Nothing to shout about just yet, but am definitely leaner and fitter than a few weeks ago. As I mentioned before, the incentive this time is to knock the booze on the head for mental reasons, but if it has health benefits too, then all the better.
- I am thankful that the sun is shining again. OK – small thing but hey, it lifted my mood!
- I am thankful that it’s Friday. Yay!!! Roll on weekend and a lovely relaxing one.