This weekend marked a few momentous occasions.
1. 65 days of no alcohol
2. A purchase and wearing of a pair of size 10 jeans
3. My first weekend away without the aid of alcohol
4. The first time I did 10 pull ups in a row
Not momentous in some people’s lives, but four biggies for me.
Let’s start with the first one. I’m 65 days into my 365 no alcohol challenge. 300 days left and then I choose whether I partake, moderate or abstain.
At the moment, I am only seeing benefits in life without booze. I am taking this challenge literally one day at a time as I know I could feck it up at any moment.
It isn’t about the dress size. But yes, fickle as it sounds, I am happier picking a size 10 item off the rail than a size 16. It doesn’t determine my happiness or state of mind anymore. Because I am smaller, it screams to me that I am healthier and fitter – and that is why I started a nutrition plan.
I drove myself and friends to a lodge in Shrewsbury this weekend to celebrate a 40th. I drove in said jeans. I thought I could hold in a wee for a while, this would have been possible in my trusty size 12’s.
In the spray on size 10’s, after an hour of holding a Niagara sized wee, my bladder found itself under attack from demin. When a loo was finally found; I could only make it by folding in the middle and lurching desperately.
It was a sight to behold.
Size 10 tummy, size 30 bladder….
I have dreaded and desired this weekend for such a long time. I almost cried when the snow started to fall and threatened to ruin our plans.
The desire came from the joy that I was going away with my very special friends (special in all ways folks). These were the women who dug me out of a depressed fog when my marriage ended, when they gave me a barbell to battle the blues with and never let me disappear into a haze of sadness. Words can never describe how much these ladies mean to me in my world and how much time with them feels like coming home.
Yet I dreaded it, because historically at our gatherings I come armed with multiple bottles of booze. This weekend I came with ammunition of a box of Becks Blu and a bottle of alcohol free fizz.
It was to be my first big social gathering since giving up the drink.
Would my friends still like me?
For a while I thought not, as the night wore on and the drinks flowed I was teased, mercilessly for my choice. I was reminded (many, many times) about when someone else had tried not to consume alcohol and I had jeered at them.
In fairness, I got my comeuppance.
But after worrying for a while if the jokes were serious, I quickly got a grip and realised, as always the jokes were jokes.
My mates would love me regardless of whether I was drunk enough to do the boob clap….
The boob clap was very much missed by all barr me this weekend.
The jokes continued all weekend and I joined in the banter. I never once felt an urge to drink, instead I drank in every second of the weekend. Felt every moment, remembered every minute, laughed because it was funny, not because everyone else was chuckling and I was too drunk to hear the joke…
I trained both days – and I only managed 10 FREAKING PULL UPS IN A ROW.
I didn’t feel I was missing out, instead I felt more involved than ever.
I came home armed with fresh calluses on my hand, some super stories to tell, and memories that will last a lifetime rather than lasting as long as a bottle of wine.
The boob clap has gone – I have given that up. When I walked away from alcohol, I didn’t give anything up – so far all I can see are the gains!