I am deeply envious of my sister: she has given up alcohol (for a few months) and looks absolutely bloody fantastic.
I wish I could give it up, but I don’t possess her steely willpower.
I love a cider at the end of a long day.
I also love my food. DD suggested we share a chicken salad at the pub the other night. I stared at him like he was totally INSANE and got a side order of pulled pork croquettes.
Something has to give cause my waistbands are getting tight. And I’m thinking it’s the grog. (Sigh, and probably the pulled pork croquettes too.)
Despite studies showing that red wine burns fat, it’s fairly universally agreed that alcohol usually makes you fat.
Diet guru Robert Atkins says:
“Here’s the problem with all alcoholic beverages, and the reason I recommend refraining from alcohol consumption on the diet. Alcohol, whenever taken in, is the first fuel to burn. While that’s going on, your body will not burn fat. This does not stop the weight loss, it simply postpones it, since the alcohol does not store as glycogen, and you immediately go back into ketosis/lipolysis after the alcohol is used up.”
I’m also addicted to Diet Coke. According to the author of The Sugar Detox, Brooke Alpert:
“Artificial sweeteners trigger insulin, which sends your body into fat storage mode and leads to weight gain.”
Fortunately, one thing I’m not addicted to is ice … though I got a phone call from someone two years ago who thought I was and tried to stage an intervention. Here’s an extract from the blog I wrote about it …
So I’m lying face-down in bed yesterday, coughing and feeling sorry for myself when the phone rings.
“Hi Alana, it’s Kim.”
I scrabbled around in my flu-addled brain trying to work out who Kim was – didn’t recognise the voice AT ALL – and started stalling.
“Sorry, I have the flu, feeling a bit fuggy …”
“Oh … well, maybe now isn’t the best time to talk,” said Kim. “But I just want you to know that I’m there for you. You can call me any time. You can talk to me about anything. I just want you to know that.”
And I’m like, riiiiiighhhht … whoever the fark you are, that’s nice …
“So, if the stuff people are saying about you is true,” she continues.
Huh? Sorry? What?
“And you are using Ice,” Kim continued.
“Er, I think you have the wrong number,” I interjected.
“What?” She sounded a bit suspicious – I’m presuming drug-farked people and flu-addled suburban mums sound quite similar on the phone. “It’s Alana, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But I’m not using Ice, so you must have the wrong Alana.”
“Is this Alana XXXXX,” she queried.
“No, Alana HOUSE.”
“Oh. OK. Er, well I’m just going to end this conversation right now, sorry …”
Honestly, that actually happened.
My life … I’ll give you one thing, it’s never boring.
What are you addicted to?
Song of the day: Robert Palmer “Addicted to love”