I'm nearing the end of Day 5 of One Month Without Alcoholic Beverages. I'm feeling virtuous. And I'm feeling like a glass of nice white wine. But no, no, I'll stick with my hot cup of Bambu coffee substitute (when I'm virtuous, I'm really virtuous).
I used to be virtuous all the time. Then I got married. (It's really quite handy having a spouse to blame for things.) Most days Keith and I come home from work at the same time and we talk about our day over a glass of wine. Then over dinner, often another. And you know, sometimes after dinner you're watching a movie and you think, ooh, a little wine would be nice. . . and suddenly you're filling out that form in the doctor's office and you have to say how many "units" you drink each week and you look at the number and you think, good lord, who is this lush?
So who knows where this will lead. Maybe the month will become six months, or a year, or a lifetime. Maybe I'll become one of those "my body is a temple" purists who practices colonic irrigation, eats only raw foods, and drinks those wheatgrass juices that look like sludge from the bottom of the bayou. Or maybe I'll start being serious about the "omm" in yoga class, give up hair color and pedicures, and dress only in undyed organic cotton. Virtue is a slippery slope.
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