Dry January

The older I get, the more I realize January is just a month designed to make you feel like you’re supposed to go cold turkey with your bad habits, only to binge on them again come February (I’m looking at you, chocolate truffles). Peer pressure is a hell of a drug though, and at some point, I knew I was probably going to feel compelled to get in on the trend.

I’m not one to jump on the bandwagon when it comes to going vegan or making a routine of hot yoga, so when it was suggested to me that I give up imbibing for the month of January, I laughed.

Hell would freeze over before I would give up wine. What’s going to keep me from popping off after a long day at work? How could I manage to spend a Sunday without it also being a Funday?

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But then it came time to pay my credit card bill. What I saw wasn’t really unusual, but after scrolling down the statement, I realized I was spending a lot of money on booze. Wine may be a grocery in some people’s eyes, but I’m trying to go somewhere for Spring Break. Whether I was curbing the habit for my health (oh, the calories!) or doing it for a condo and a case of Pinot Grigio on the beach didn’t really matter to me. I decided I was going to take the plunge and take part in Dry January.

The first step was detoxing my living quarters. I looked through my apartment, packed up the bottles of wine left from the holidays in a cupboard and sealed it up – because pouring wine down the drain is absolute SACRILEGE. Thus, with a sober home and a sober mind the challenge began.

Day 1: Sun in the sky, you know how I feel.

It’s a new dawn, a new day, a new life, and it was pouring rain in south Georgia. But the weather doesn’t really equate to my mood for once. I really do feel great. Maybe it’s the sleep or maybe it’s the fact that nothing happens the first day of classes. Either way, it’s relaxing. I go home that night and think it would be a perfect evening for a #showerwine, but come to realize that isn’t kosher anymore. I decide that I might as well just take a normal shower and be sad.

Day 2: I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.

If you wanna be my waiter, you gotta bring a pitcher quick. Tuesday night is trivia and since I generally live under a rock when it comes to history and things I ~should~ know as a functioning adult, I usually skip out on this weekly event and watch Netflix in my bed. However, since this is January, I decided to carpe diem and go to trivia with the squad. My naiveté was showing as I discovered trivia is just an excuse to drink on a Tuesday. I sipped on four Diet Cokes, which my waitress never charged me for because she could obviously see the single tear streaming down my face, as my friends got sloshed on PBR.

Day 3: We could’ve had it all.

Rolling into the wine shop on #WineWednesday is normally a weekly ritual for me, but no, January had to ruin that for me, too. Wine Wednesday is usually a day I look forward to, my reward for making it halfway through the week. But this Wednesday all I wound up doing was calling the local Jimmy John’s and ordering a sandwich.

Day 4: Wake up in the morning feeling like.

I wake up feeling like Kesha after sleeping in a bathtub following a night of partying. But here’s the super fun part—I didn’t even drink! What in the fresh hell is this?! After reflecting on my week and analyzing my other choices it hits me that I’ve been substituting wine with another substance I tend to overly enjoy: coffee. My coffee consumption went up dramatically this past week, to the point that I might as well have bought a box of wine instead of nearly purchasing majority stake in Starbucks. The plastic coating of my Starbucks Gold Card is even starting to peel off. My identity is at stake here, and I don’t know how to feel.

Day 5 + 6: Where are Ü now that…

It’s the weekend and I’ve been branded as the designated driver for the next THREE DAYS. What’s the point of college if I can’t spend holidays like this, being tipsy around a fire as some “bro” is doing a keg stand a few feet behind me? I decide to channel my Kimmy Schmidt and keep telling myself that I am unbreakable. I’ve been through some shit this week and if I can survive this I can survive anything.

Day 7: I can’t feel my face when I’m with you. I cave in a moment of weakness.

There is no greater day than Sunday. Seriously. Sunday is the best day ever. Think about the things that come with a twenty-something Sunday: sleeping in late, brunch, booze, boozey brunch, being lazy, and more booze. It’s a holiday in itself. How could I say no when I just happened to drive by the wine shop and a bottle or two of Chardonnay magically appeared in my basket? It was a beautiful day in south Georgia, so my friends and I thought it was best to do what any college student should be doing on a day like this — getting trashed on a balcony at 2:00 in the afternoon.

As painful as it was, I did manage to save some money by not drinking for a week. However, I spent the rest of it drinking coffee to maintain my sanity. Maybe I’ll try again in February?

Or March?


Ehhhhh. Screw it. I’ll just make other life changes instead.