SARAH VINE: My life has changed so much after quitting alcohol…

In general, I don’t care much for so-called motivational months: Stoptober (smoking), Movember (prostate cancer), Veganuary (which in my experience tends to turn into Fartbruary).

But for some reason, this year’s Sober October has struck a chord.

As strange as it may seem, after a lifetime of drinking, I might be ready to hit it over the head.

Not that I’m a particularly heavy drinker. I don’t fall asleep at night in a daze for Newsnight, and I find myself lugging embarrassing amounts of empties to the recycling.

But like many people, especially women my age, I drink more than is probably good for me. I love champagne – the glamour, the bubbles, the excitement that comes with popping a cork – and there’s nothing better than a chilled glass of Albarino on a warm summer’s evening, or a drop of Barolo on a cold winter’s night.

My unusually high tolerance for alcohol doesn’t help. My father always said that being Welsh meant being born with two livers, like the two petrol tanks on the old Jaguar XJ-6. When one runs out, the other just jumps in.

This means that at the end of a night out, when most people are dancing to Abba and making fools of themselves, I will be the one making sure they don’t accidentally leave with the wrong spouse.

That doesn’t mean I haven’t had my moments.

I never drink cocktails. At a party years ago at Checkers for Samantha Cameron’s birthday, I got quite excited while dancing after knocking over several Negronis in rapid succession.

But I don’t feel like I have a problem with alcohol. I say this as someone who is very self-critical and has a problem with overeating, for example. Booze isn’t my poison, that’s sugar.

And that, I think, is one of the reasons I quit drinking.

Alcohol is actually sugar. We may be kidding ourselves that drinking a few glasses of wine with dinner is all very refined, but we might as well squeeze in a Dunkin’ Donut with the meal.

People tend to characterize problem drinkers as full-fledged alcoholics. But the truth is, there are plenty of so-called ‘moderate’ drinkers who do it not so much because of the effects of the alcohol, but because of the other, arguably equally insidious, high sugar levels.

We may not slur our words or fall down the stairs, but that doesn’t mean we don’t harm ourselves. We drink because alcohol gives us the same kind of warm, fuzzy pleasure as a bar of chocolate or an eclair.

A bottle of rosé contains about 600 calories. You might as well eat a whole pie. Only cake won’t give you a hangover or indigestion at night.

And that’s actually the reason I quit drinking. Maybe it’s my age (57), but the pleasure simply no longer outweighs the pain. I just don’t enjoy it enough that I wake up at 3 a.m. with acid reflux, or feel like crap on my morning walk with the dog.

And I certainly don’t appreciate the blubbery belly, muffin top, gray skin, and bloated feeling that comes from regular alcohol consumption. And of course the inevitable self-loathing.

Lately, when someone offers me a drink, I don’t think “ooh, go ahead,” but instead experience a slight sense of dread. Do I really want to do this to myself?

That’s why I’m giving Sober October a try.

So far (and admittedly I’ve only been at it for a week) it hasn’t been difficult. Although the real eye-opener is the alcohol-shaped hole in my life.

Without a trusted glass of wine during social gatherings, I feel like I’m missing out on an essential social tool. Recently, as I was having dinner with two friends with my bottled water while they drank vodka, I was paranoid that I might have suddenly turned into a monumental dullard.

I’m struggling to get over the idea that if I don’t drink, I’m no longer “fun.”

Does this mean that drinking alcohol is as much a psychological problem as it is a physical problem?

I’m not sure. But what I do know is that after a week – with only one relapse (a small vodka with a friend who just received terrible news) I feel noticeably better.

I sleep better, go to bed earlier (partly, to be honest, out of boredom – that alcohol-shaped hole again), don’t wake up during the night and, joy of joys, my waistband feels looser. Surprisingly, I also feel a lot calmer and less anxious.

Will this be permanent? Am I about to say goodbye to something that has been a companion longer than almost anything or anyone?

I doubt it. But it got me thinking: maybe apparently sober Gen Z – nearly 30 percent of whom say they don’t drink – is right: maybe there really is more to life than a glass of the old CH3CH2OH at the end of a long time. day. Either way, it’s a fascinating experiment.

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Kate’s joyful hug

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