Body Worry : He Meets a Drink and Doesn’t Blink

For 2 1/2 months, since I moved to Grand Bahama Island, my life has been controlled and sheltered. Gluttony and sloth, former friends, haven’t seen much of me. Insecurity, an acquaintance, has been pretty much kept at bay, too. I’ve been safe, with others shoring me up and keeping me from temptation.

Leaving theisland without my trainer last night, in the company of strangers who cared only about their hangovers and sunburns, was therefore wonderfully tempting--and a little nerve-racking. Airplanes serve real food. Junk food. There was no one telling me to avoid butter or select baked chicken over greasy, tasty stew, and not a soul acted like the dessert was anything but healthy.

I decided moderation was as good as abstinence when it came to dessert and coffee. I consumed them without guilt. Small sins are so nice.

Rattling Liquor Bottles

A cart filled with rattling liquor bottles rolled by for the last time, and my eyes followed it for a moment--until I realized how much it tempted me.

I have quietly enjoyed wine and whiskey for years. I say “quietly” because no one has accused me of being a drunkard or a problem drinker, and even I didn’t realize how much I depended on moderate amounts of alcohol to help me handle things.

Insecurities, worries, pressures, rapid changes in plans, great opportunities, exciting things and terrifying things, boredom, thinking too much, fatigue--I had an encyclopedia of reasons for a glass of wine or beer.

And though I never drank alone during the day all those years, I did like a drink at night to help me sleep. The before-bed drink became the one I really needed. Of course, it only put me to sleep for a few hours and then woke me up.

When I look at what I’ve just written, the words look a lot like those of an alcoholic, and they scare me as much as my memories of the times I needed that drink.

They also embarrass me in a way: I may not elicit swoons yet, but I’m quite proud of most of me. I don’t really like to admit that alcohol was necessary for me to be more comfortable with myself.

“Was” is the operative word here, I hope. I stopped drinking the first night of my remake. Though I was nervous and didn’t sleep well for a night or two, I now sleep like I used to back when my biggest worry was going out to feed my horse on a cold morning.

Outgoing, Relaxed

More important, I like myself better. People have always seen me as an outgoing, relaxed person with others, especially strangers.

Their perception has always been wrong. My heartbeat quickens when I’m alone in an unknown situation. I worry if people will like me and worry if my looks fit the situation and worry about my worry breaking through my well-tended facade.

I really thought booze helped me through those moments, too. It probably did loosen my tongue, but, on more objective reflection, it brought me a quiet dread of others rather than tranquillity.

I realized that at my first no-booze party two months ago. Though I was nervous at the thought of handling myself without my high-octane friend (still am at times), the gathering was enjoyable and surprisingly non-threatening. Not a goblin chased me.

A Nicer High

My mood swings don’t have peaks and valleys these days. I have spent an awful lot of the past 20 years terrified of things that never happened--or happened with no great consequence--and excited about things that would elicit a yawn from most. I thought a drink or two would help me through those moments. When I realized they caused many of them and exacerbated all of them, I felt a nicer high than any drink can bring.

I also like to contemplate a quote from my first blood analysis since “The Reformation.” In 2 1/2 months, my “triglycerides have dropped precipitously from 355 mg/dl to 174 and the GGT, a liver enzyme study (most commonly related to the abuse of alcohol), has dropped from 117 to 51. It is almost back to normal.” A liver to elicit swoons.

Abstinence, however, did not mean I had arrived in heaven. I still worry about things (like my shoulder, which is better, but not well enough for serious lifting), am still nervous at times around others, still occasionally grumpy and depressed. Not a weakness or problem left me permanently, but they all lost ground to equanimity.

I thought about all this as the liquor cart continued down the airplane aisle. It didn’t seem as filled with magic elixirs as it used to. And though I don’t like the idea of facing a world of weight lifting, temptation and pleasure without some help, I am becoming very comfortable facing it without liquid support.

Drinking too much? Who, me?

What is heavy drinking? The Institute on Alcohol Abuse defines light drinking as under four 1 1/2-ounce drinks per week, moderate drinking as four to 14 drinks, and heavy drinking as over 14 per week. If your math’s a little slow today, that makes a more than two-drink-per-day person a heavy drinker. And research shows that most of us mix drinks a lot larger than 1 1/2 ounces, too. (One 12-ounce beer or one 5-ounce glass of wine equals one drink by this definition.)

How do you know if drinking is hurting you physically? Too much drinking can affect more than your liver, but the definition of “too much” varies greatly from individual to individual--both from an addictive point of view and from a pure health point of view. Generally speaking, a blood test that measures your SGPT and SGOT levels (two enzymes related to liver functions) will tell you if you are drinking enough to affect the functioning of your liver. Any doctor or clinic can order these tests for you.

How do you know if someone is drinking too much? If you wonder about it, the person probably is, whether the person is you or someone else. But remember we are talking about two problems here: alcohol addiction, which affects some people quickly and others not at all, and the long-term effects of drinking heavily, which affect the alcoholic and non-alcoholic alike.

If alcohol has become an important part of any person’s emotional or physical needs, a problem is present. If you see that problem, don’t ignore it. Hunks don’t avoid problems, they take charge.

Progress Report

Beginning Tenth Week Waist: 43 inches 33 inches Right biceps: 12 3/4 inches 12 3/4 inches Flexed: 13 inches 13 1/8 inches Weight: 201pounds 169 pounds Height: 6’ 1” Blood pressure: 128/68 130/70 Pulse: 64 62 Bench press: 55 110 Hunk factor: .00 .15