Thus far, I’ve put on a kilo, spent roughly $150 on treats and non-alcoholic drinks (at least double what I’d have spent on wine), taken up zero new hobbies unless you count blogging, spent zero time exercising and zero time socialising. My house is no cleaner, I’m no better rested (thanks largely to a household stomach bug which has only hit the children so far. So far…), basically everything is a great big fat anti-climax.
On the bright side, I also don’t have cravings, or even much of a sense of loss, yet. Which, perversely, also feels anti-climactic. It’s hardly the battle of a lifetime, or even something I should be congratulated for. I just don’t drink.