Renouncing all booze at NewYear
is as unoriginal a resolution as it is
typically unsuccessful. Even so,
I’mstill tempted to join the throng
of teetotallers. At first glance, my
body appears untouched bymy
fondness for a drink – but the
cracks are starting to show. In fact,
they’re beginning to hurt.
I kick off by looking at my vital
stats. At 180 centimetres, my
83 kilograms edge me into the
extreme upper limits of the
“healthy” category, according to the
Heart Foundation’s online
calculator.My cheeks are a little
flushed and I have permanent dark
circles under my eyes. And, despite
my three-day-a-week gymhabit, I
still have love handles. I’m
spending $100 amonth to maintain
my 84cm waist, whilemaking zero
progress. Finally (and somew
reluctantly) I jot down my drin
habits. I realise I’m out betwe
three and five times a week, a
drinking up to a bottle of wine
time. That’s almost 37 units a
It’s motivation enough to p
down my glass for 28 days. I
pledge to replace alcoholic d
with juice or water, to keep m
body hydrated and replenish
stores depleted by former ni
out. I decide to post about th
challenge, too, after reading
the sense of accountability t
comes from doing so keeps
people honest. There’s even
website, stickk.com, that let
users create and share a
“Commitment Contract
The first four days are pretty
easy; my strategy is simply to
decline any social invitations.
It’s easier to stay in and drink
water than face temptation in
the pub. But my first trial soon
appears in the shape of a
colleague’s birthday. The phrase
“Go on, just have one, don’t be
boring” is repeated ad nauseam
and some time around midnight
I briefly consider caving. Instead
I leave early.
My next big night isn’t scheduled
until a day after the challenge is
over, mercifully, but I make a point
to pencil in a few extra nonalcohol-
related social events so
that I don’t start to feel like a pious
monk, locked out of sight.
On the upside, my body has
already started to transform. I
spend more time in the gym after
noting that it’s the only location
where people are guzzling water
out of choice. Over the next three
weeks my strength shoots up.
Before, I’d lift 45kg on the
shoulder press, now I can do
60kg. A clearer head has me
more focused on pushing my
limits and I increase my biceps
curls from 14kg to 18kg on each
arm, while my weighted crunches
promptly double. I find it’s easier
to squeeze out all my reps,
whereas I previously had a
somewhat flabby tendency to quit
before the set was done. Little
wonder new definition is starting
to emerge.
I also have extra energy, which
nutritionist Dr Susan Lanham-New
explains is due to a more balanced
diet and better sleep quality. It
turns out that the reason my
hangovers felt like jetlag is
because alcohol affects normal
sleep patterns. With the extra getup-
and-go, my three weekly
workouts extend to five or six. I’m
also finding time to cook at home;
grilled chicken served with piles of
steamed greens has replaced
takeaway steak baguettes.
Day 26, and the finish line is
finally in sight. Having a cut-off
date provides a helpful shot in the
arm for my flagging motivation. On
the final day I look in the mirror and
gratefully notice how prominent
my abs have become. My waist is
a whole size smaller – I guess the
cash I saved can go on new jeans.
My BMI is firmly back in the
healthy range, and my
sleep, diet and physical activity
have all improved considerably
The results are impressive, but
what have I learned? For the most
part, I’m happy my dry month is
over. It felt too restrictive to be
sustainable – going beyond 28
days would require serious
willpower. There’s a reason the
pubs are full come February.
Moderation is my new resoluti
I’ll be opting for two weeks on,
weeks off, while trying to plan
more social events where alco
won’t be involved. I want to giv
my body a break, but without
contractual abstinence. It’s the
rebound binge that will sink you
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