Give It Up! My Year of Learning to Live Better with Less Chapter One January Alcohol I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning that's as good as they're going to feel all day. -- Frank Sinatra When I woke up on January 1 with flannel on my teeth, a tribal pounding in my head, and a feeling of mental queasiness that could only be remedied by a Denny's Grand Slam breakfast, I uttered those famous last words, "I am never drinking again," followed by those other famous words," I mean it' Even though at that moment I was in no position to make clear decisions, I needed to regain control of my life or at least my ability to stand up without the room spinning. Push had come to shove and I was ready to strike a deal. At that point, I would have done just about anything to feel better. This roller -- coaster ride was the end result of mandatory fun planned by my friends. We attended the mother of all New Year's Eve parties, in one of the largest bars in New York. Judging by the line out the door, it seemed likely that one, if not all, of our soul mates awaited inside. Once through the door, we quickly grabbed a table by the bar, where we made our presence known to both the bartender and our potential soul mates. We simultaneously made our way to the bottom of many gasses and to the bottom of as many pickup lines. Finding our soul mates soon became less and less likely. Adding insult to injury, the party was not only physically taxing, as evidenced by the worst hangover of my life, but expensive as well. The all -- inclusive cost for the night of fun was equivalent to that of a pair of Bergdorf loafers I had been eyeing. Open bar, food, noisemakers, and music were promised along with the implied message that you were going to have the time of your life. The reality was that except for one French -- fry plate, all of the above were conspicuously missing, with the exception of my favorite cocktail, the dirty martini. Always a believer in getting my money's worth, or in this case my loafers' worth, I bellied up to the bar again and again. According to wwwfamilydoctor.org, a woman is considered to be drinking excessively if she has more than seven drinks per week and more than three drinks per occasion. A man is considered to be drinking excessively if he has more than fourteen drinks per week or more than four drinks per occasion. I had surpassed my drinking limit with the New Year's cocktails alone. At last count, the score was Martinis: 7 Mary: 0. Clearly my parameters for a night of casual drinking were completely out of balance with reality. According to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, a drink is generally considered to be 12 ounces of beer, 5 ounces of wine, or 1.5 ounces of 80 -- proof distilled spirits. Each of these drinks contains roughly the same amount of absolute alcohol -- approximately 0.5 ounce, or 12 grams. And while it seemed reasonable to follow the recommendations of the medical profession, I wondered how in the world I was going to stop drinking for an entire month. Temptations popped up everywhere like Viagra ads on the Internet. Even so, as the month began, I was overly confident. At first, the mere smell of alcohol seemed repugnant to me. This challenge should not be hard for someone like me, I reasoned, who has excellent decision -- making abilities and tremendous willpower. After all, it was not for the rest of my life. My first obstacle presented itself while reviewing my weekly calendar, which had the words "drinks with..." written at the bottom of almost every page. Would it be possible for me to have a conversation with a work colleague or with a girlfriend at a bar and order club soda? I started making the phone calls. There were two choices: Ask if I could reschedule for after February 1, when the drinking would resume and I would be "normal" again, or keep the date and rely on virgin cocktails to keep the conversation going. My first three phone calls resulted in three rescheduled drink dates for February when, according to one of my friends, "I would come to my senses." Another friend suggested, "Let's wait till we can both have fun." So, with three for three on the rescheduling, February began to look like one big drunken month. Even though an occasional friend would applaud my efforts, their disbelief in my ability to pull it off reinforced the "better you than me" adage. The fourth call to my brother was illuminating. He is a self -- described food and wine snob who once asked me on the way to Sunday Mass what kind of wine would be served. He had managed to get a reservation at New York's Veritas, which has a world -- class wine list. I called to tell him that I would still be happy to attend, but that I would not be drinking anything alcoholic, including wine. After a moment of silence, he suggested rescheduling the evening. Neither one of us could see the point of having this amazing meal without wine. Rescheduling this dinner made me realize the many roles alcohol played in my life. As a marketing professional, I attended cocktail parties, award dinners, and launch parties several times each week where cocktails, wine, and champagne were served from the moment you walked in the room until the event ended. Would I be able to let those drinks trays pass me by and carry on conversation with coworkers and clients? Even if there wasn't a work -- related party, it was easier to meet with colleagues after five "for drinks" than to get them on the phone during the day. It seemed that no one had the time to talk at work anymore. Drinks after work became a necessity for bonding with coworkers and talking to colleagues. . . . Give It Up! My Year of Learning to Live Better with Less . Copyright © by Mary Carlomagno. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Give It Up!: My Year of Learning to Live Better with Less by Mary Carlomagno All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
