I Accidentally Quit Drinking One Month Ago and the Results Are Annoying

Who wants to feel this good?

Jill Francis

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Woman sitting in a pool overlooking a town in Italy. Ocean is visible beyond.
Author’s Photo of Author Having Time to Do Nothing in Her Pool

Make no mistake, I didn’t plan this. I was not looking to embark on some kind of liver detox, life reset, or telomere lengthening exercise. The only thing that happened is that I got whacked so hard by COVID that the mere sight of the bottle of prosecco chilling in the fridge made me shudder. One week on the wagon turned into two, then two weeks turned into a month, and now I’m one of those infuriating people who quit drinking for a while and can’t stop talking about how awesome everything is.

A month ago, I wouldn’t be friends with me. Well, that’s not true. I would be friends with me, but I would have side-eyed me to death over my choice of soda water while the rest of us were trying to get our aperitivo on. I would have pitied me silently and likely judged my ability to recognize a good time if it hit me square in the jaw. In short, I would have been a bit of a shit.

Now? Rainbows out the ass, as far as the eye can see.

I am so sick of myself that I figured I would offload my annoyance by sharing it with all of you. But, before we get started, here’s a bit of background information about me and my drinking habits. I am 46, a former athlete who works out plenty, I have Celiac disease with lots of stomach issues, and I normally weigh around 120–123 pounds (54.4–55.8 kg). I used to drink between 3–4 nights per week and would have either a few ounces (2? 4? Anyone’s guess!) of tequila or a couple of glasses of prosecco. I don’t like to drink with food in my stomach. I know, I know, sound the alarms, but if I eat and drink, I get nauseated and the night is over which is no fun at all. I usually have a few cocktails and then have dinner. It works. (Well, it did.) And yes, Judgy Mc Judgerson, I drink tequila straight, but I lived in Jalisco, Mexico for four years and that shit is practically medicinal, so shhh.

The last thing I have to say is that I do not eat gluten, grains, sugar, or dairy, (I do drink caffeine though, jeeze, I’m not a monster) so I can not attribute the following tale of euphoric phantasmagoria to anything but going hooch-free.

Here are some of the things that have changed in the last month. I apologize, in…

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Jill Francis

American immigrant in Italy with too many degrees in Psychology. I write about everything I’m afraid of. jillfranciswrites@gmail.com