25% Less
Trying to actually live by Friday's plan to cut the rum measure - a smaller glass, a battle I didn't win, and a silver lining that's real even if it isn't the one I meant to earn.
Friday was the test of everything I said in a previous post.
One measure. 35ml. That was the plan.
Tipped the bottle, and the pour stopped at 35ml. Looking at that in the bottom of the glass, it seemed like nothing. A splash. I nearly poured a second one straight on top of it out of instinct.
I didn’t. I topped it up with Pepsi Max instead, added the ice, and even then the drink didn’t reach the top of the glass. It looked exactly as unconvincing as that sounds.
It tasted less strong too, which is obviously the entire point. I persevered anyway.
Second glass, same as the first. And that’s usually where I’d stop. Two, done, for the evening.
Instead, I was disappointed it had ended so quickly.
That’s the bit worth being honest about. On full measures, two is enough. On half measures, my brain apparently does measure it in millilitres, not in number of glasses, because two smaller ones simply didn’t add up to the same total. It kept nudging me toward a third to close the gap.
So I had a third.
I felt guilty about it before I’d even finished it, which tells you I already knew what I was doing.
The following night was worse, in a shameful, predictable sort of way. Same result. Three glasses instead of two.
Twice in a row now, apparently.
I’d like to put a positive spin on this, because it isn’t a total loss even if it doesn’t feel like a win.
Three glasses at the smaller measure still comes out at roughly 25% less rum overall than two glasses at the old one. That’s not nothing. It’s a real reduction, just not the one I’d actually planned, and definitely not one I can claim any credit for as discipline.
25% less rum, I can learn to live with.
Sunday’s red wine is an entirely different matter. There’s no compromise on that one. Not with the wife’s Sunday dinner on the table. Some battles I’m not even going to pretend to fight.