I Decided to Go on the Sobriety Diet, Here’s Why
— Julia LaSalvia
My family has been known to go on diets. One year, it was Atkins. The next, South Beach. Then it was Vegetarianism. Then they upped the ante to Veganism (I couldn’t keep up for that one). Then there was a brief period where we were on a family-wide juice cleanse.
While most of these would last for a few months and then end rather abruptly, there’s something compelling about showing your body that it’s your mind that is really in control. Something about testing your will power and seeing results that can be emboldening. It’s a tangible reminder that we’re capable of making changes.
For me, the decision to go on a sobriety diet is a personal one.
There’s a lot of reasons why once I came up with the idea, I couldn’t shake it. For one, I’m excited about the idea of being healthier and potentially losing weight. My mom and her friend took a hiatus from drinking and both look fabulous. This is obviously a huge motivating factor.
The other reasons are more personal. I’ll use an anecdote to explain. A recent black-out revealed that I spent $30 on a very short Uber ride and then proceeded to lose my phone in said Uber. And then got into a fight with my not-to-be-mentioned boyfriend because I was being, to use millennial nomenclature, a bit of a hot mess.
While there are many takeaways from this story, I’m choosing to focus on the financial component. Basically, this lifestyle isn’t sustainable. Someone with a job that pays like mine (entry level job at a non-profit TV station… you do the math) can’t be buying herself $30 Ubers for a distance that is by most human-standards walk-able.
You aren’t Beyoncé for Christ’s sake.
After the Uber situation, I began thinking about how much money I spend on drinking per month. Those vodka sodas are adding up. And the high roller-ness that comes when I’m drunk (“this round’s on me, guys!”). Add to that, the after-work happy hour drinks, which in SF are just normally priced drinks anywhere else … is paying $8 for a subpar glass of wine actually that happy of an hour?
And then, on a somewhat more serious note, there’s the dependency aspect.
I’m not referring to alcoholism, but I’m also not totally not referring to that either. I love to drink. When it’s Saturday night, it would be hard to imagine me not clutching my glass like it contains water from that spring in Tuck Everlasting. I suffer from over-analysis paralysis and getting a lil buzz goin’ helps me relax (so sue me!).
But as I grow older and the occasional black-out becomes less cute and hilarious as it once seemed in college, I figure there must be a better way to get my brain to calm down for a few hours. On top of that, my hangovers are getting absolutely terrible and I suck at working out during the week so I feel like this foray into sobriety could be a healthy life choice. I’m tired of losing whole days to hangovers. What happens in San Francisco at 8am on a Sunday? I want to know!
So here’s the skinny on my personal experiment:
- Do I intend on being sober forever? Obviously not, I’m not Gandhi.
- Do I hope to discover that I can have fun without drinking? I really do… otherwise the results of this will be v depressing.
- Do I look forward to a month of no hangovers and **fingers crossed** increased productivity? Hell yeah! Maybe I’ll write more, maybe I’ll use the extra money to start taking Zumba… who knows. There are so many potential outcomes.
- Do I worry I’ll crack on my birthday, which also happens to be this month? In a word…yes.
- Am I concerned that I’m more dependent than I even thought and the idea of being sober for a month ultimately becomes a case study in my lack of will power? This is a major concern and potentially very embarrassing after posting this.
Either way, I’m cheers-ing you with my soda water and I’ll get back to you with the results of my existential crisis — I mean personal experiment — in February.
-Julia
