I always felt like a skier poised atop a black ski run, at the start of December. Holy shitttt. This was going to be exhilarating, but also, I might die. It was going to be acceptable to drink in the office, geronimo!, but I was also terrified of what I might do this year. Tips over edge'OK, let's do this, but agggggg'.
There was the Xmas party where I fell asleep while talking to my boss (great for my career, as you can imagine). The office party which led to me being topless in a hot tub on a Soho rooftop. The time I woke up next to a colleague, with no memory of making the decision that pulling him would be a super idea.
Or the less dramatic, but equally as traumatic moments. Telling a workmate something I really shouldn't, a secret that tumbled out on the wine waterslide, and feeling that heart-plummet the next morning, when I realised. Or the half hour spent convinced that I was about to vomit on the polished mahogany boardroom table, during a 20-person-strong meeting. Or inhaling full-sugar Coke and a cheese croissant for breakfast, willing them to stop the slight shake in my hands and the dread in my soul about the day ahead.
As the years rolled by, my excitement over December's hard drinking, began to tip over into excitement + fear, then fear + excitement, until finally - all I felt was fear. I couldn't predict what I would do or say, and given the mixing of bottomless lunches and colleagues, I felt my career could be in jeopardy.
Also, 14 units a week? Are you having a laugh? I was easily sinking that in one night, over December's excesses. 'Tis the season to be smashed.
It's been a terrifying few months for drinkers. Back in August, the largest-ever global investigation into the impact of drinking was published, in the shape of a [Lancet report](https://www.thelancet.com/article/S0140-6736){href='https://www.thelancet.com/article/S0140-6736(18)' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer'}, which took in colossal swathes of data from 195 countries.
It found that alcohol is now the leading cause of premature death or illness in those aged 15-49. Easy to dismiss as a 'them' rather than 'us' problem, but the fact is, women with university degrees are twice as likely to drink daily. In 2017, nine British women a day died from liver disease; an increase of a third since 2001. And many of those women were just like you or I.
Over 100 doctors contributed to the report, which toppled conventional wisdom that a little bit of alcohol is OK, by concluding, 'The level of alcohol consumption that minimised harm across health outcomes was zero.'
Then, just last week, USA Today printed a shocking piece entitled 'Alcohol is killing more people, and younger. The biggest increases are among women', which cited a ten-year University of Washington study. It showed that among women, alcohol-attributable deaths have risen by 85 per cent in a decade.
Don't hate me, for telling you this. I know it's horrifying. But it's an inconvenient truth that we now have to confront. Basically, we're living in a direct repeat of 1950s Britain, when it started emerging that smoking was actually really bad for you, and doctors stopped appearing in tobacco adverts.
Something the Lancet study found, which largely went unreported, is that Britain is spectacularly failing to 'drink responsibly.' It found that British women (and men) are packing away on average three drinks a day (30 grams of pure alcohol), or a total of 26 units a week. 14 units a week is just not happening.
Why? 'Drink responsibly' is a laughable command, and an attempt by the alcohol industry to put the ball firmly in your court, rather than take responsibility for the effects of their product.
Alcohol by its very nature makes you wildly irresponsible. It’s not a side effect of your flawed, irresponsible character that you stay out too late, flirt with / kiss someone you shouldn’t, fall on questionable food from Kebab King like a coyote, and then have alarming rips in your memory the next day. It’s a side effect of alcohol itself.
You can tell, because all of us experience similar symptoms when we drink hard (mainly infidelities, fried chicken and argumentativeness in my case).
It’s not YOU, it’s the booze, and asking us to 'drink responsibly' would be like asking us to drink coffee and stay zen, or to do cocaine humbly, or eat ice cream without experiencing a cold mouth. The actual substance makes what they’re asking practically impossible.
But, society still believes that saying no to a drink makes you a buzzkill, a joy-slayer, a stick-in-the-mud, a party pooper, an ENEMY OF FUN. A social more which serves the alcohol industry beautifully, just as the notion that smoking was 'cool' served the tobacco industry.
We shouldn't judge people for drinking, but we certainly shouldn't be judging people for notdrinking, either. Drinking ought to be a choice; not a social necessity, particularly now.
So, this festive season, if you see someone giving the tray of champagne a hard swerve and heading for the lesser-spotted elderflower presse instead, try saying ‘well done’ to them rather than ‘don’t be BORING, have a DRINK forgodsake.’
It’s time we stopped bullying each other into one more drink / one more bar. Saying that people are boring if they don't drink, is exactly like saying people are uncool if they don't smoke.
Catherine Gray quit drinking in 2013 and is the author of The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober. She also has a journal coming out at the end of December, which aims to help people through any length of alcohol-free period.