So I’m a senior in college and I have been practically dry for the past three years. Yep. I had one margarita (which was absolutely terrible) at a hotel bar in the Dominican last summer and maybe one sip of wine at Christmas. That’s it.
Why don’t I drink?
Well, given the fact that I use this blog to talk about my issues with eating disorders, it may not come as a surprise that I first stopped drinking because it was just empty calories – and that terrified me. Plus, my Freshman Fifteen had been accompanied by excessive drinking (and might have contributed to it as well). So, when I went on my first diet, I cut out alcohol as well.
But then came the anorexia. And I realized that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t drink: due to my dramatic weight loss I was no longer capable of holding my liquor. To the point of one glass of wine making me act like I was high on acid.
Somewhere between regaining weight and trying to live a healthy life, I realized something else: I was a control freak. Surprise, surprise, I guess. And this was when the rest of my issues with alcohol sort of clicked into place: I don’t like to drink because it makes me lose control. Even a little, even if it’s slurred speech or lack of balance or thinking that I can bust a move like Jagger, I hate it. Why should I do the things I wouldn’t normally do because of some fermented sugar?
Then I started observing my friends while they drank. I saw their hangovers the next morning. And I realized, you know what? It’s not worth it.
Now, I’m not a raging anti-alcohol activist. People have fun the way they want to. In some cultures, alcohol is a huge deal, a way of social bonding. That’s fine.
But I think I’d rather spend a nice evening sober than a morning hunched over the toilet bowl.