T
wo years ago my friend, the writer Hannah Betts, gave up drinking alcohol. Nothing dramatic prompted this decision, she had just become weary of her relationship with booze and was on a quest for a more fulfilling night’s sleep. Renouncing drink turned out to be the best solution for her own personal predicament. I was intrigued by Hannah’s resolution, having known her for many years, and having been an enthusiastic partner in what she calls ‘a lifetime of resplendent carousing’.
One of the side-effects of her new cocktail-free evenings was the extraordinary rejuvenation of Hannah’s skin, which I witnessed first hand. Could giving up alcohol be the sole reason for this enviable new glow I wondered (secretly hoping not, given my own love of a Friday-night margarita)?
So I asked Hannah, a beauty product enthusiast, to find out and on page 254 she writes about what she discovered. I won’t spoil the surprise for you, but I will say it has made me re-evaluate my own relationship with alcohol or, more importantly, the way I consume sugar in my daily diet.
But Hannah’s piece presents an emotional dilemma for us all in this era of so-called ‘clean living’. Is the abstinence mindset a realistic way of being?
What’s been great about Hannah’s journey is her non-judgemental approach to not drinking.
It’s rare for those who have discovered what they deem ‘a better way’ not to demand we join their own personal revolution.
When I looked into the possibility of a soberforever lifestyle (as everyone does after a long, wine-fuelled summer) I was overwhelmed by the evangelistic zeal of those who had already embraced it, the way they believed the rest of us were blindly living a worse life, that they were possibly better human beings with more willpower than us normals.