When I decided to get serious about fitness, I had to first execute a break up. Liquor and I had a wonderfully intimate relationship since (sorry Mom), far before I was of legal age. I love a good drink and hell, I’ll tolerate a bad one. I was a Rugby player in college. You can’t get much worse than shooting the boot from a Natty Light Keg. Been there. Done that. Loved every minute.

I have always been of the mindset that almost everything is more fun with a drink in hand. Trust me, it even makes cleaning a bathroom more palatable. However, a drink not only takes away inhibitions on the dance floor so you can release your inner Solid Gold dancer; it also takes away food inhibitions so you think a 3 scoop brownie sundae at 11pm on Monday night is a great idea.

Moreover, by the time you get to the ice cream sundae, you’ve already spiked up your caloric intake. Any drink you grab is going to average a 150 calorie punch; quite a bit more if you’re mixing with juice or soda. Besides, I don’t know about you, but one drink tastes so good that I always have two, or three or heck whose counting? No legit party girl counts her drinks! Didn’t college teach you anything???

And sleep… well after six or more drinks you’ll pass out cold and make it through the night: but it’s not good sleep. Cut that back to three drinks and you’re likely to have a restless night of sleep. Either way, you do not wake up well rested and ready to conquer an active day. Instead, you begrudgingly drag yourself out of bed promising yourself a quick siesta after the kids get on the bus. You suck down as much caffeine as you can while wishing someone would invent an intravenous drip bag of Pedialyte that you could strap across your back. And, you are probably craving something greasy and filling like a Quarter Pounder or a large pepperoni pizza.

The problem with my break up was… I still loved the affair. I’m the girl who never said no to the shot of Petrone. I’m fun. Could I even do responsible? So, it took a little getting over the hurdle of my perception of managing other’s expectations, not to mention my own. Turns out most people my age are fighting the same fitness battle I am, so they understood. And, I was still pretty darn fun sober. 

The infamous “they” assert it takes three weeks to kick an old habit or develop new ones. I got through the three weeks without cheating on my break up, (ex’s can be somewhat irresistible). Sure enough “they” were right. I had proved my resolve to myself. I set a goal and I met it. I started to lose weight and felt healthier. My relationship with alcohol devolved from an intimate love affair to a friendship. We now visit mostly on weekends and at book club.