Let me tell you something real—like, brutally real. I once thought cutting out sugar would be my golden ticket to feeling like a glowing goddess with flawless skin, boundless energy, and the kind of mental clarity monks meditate decades for. And to some extent, yeah, there were changes. But I left one small thing out of the equation.
Alcohol.
Yep. That devil in a glass. Wine at dinner, cocktails at happy hour, maybe even a shot or two when life hit the fan—don’t lie, we’ve all been there.
I was patting myself on the back for giving up cookies, cake, and that sneaky syrup in my “healthy” granola, but still clinking glasses every weekend (and sometimes on weekdays because “it’s been a long day,” right?).
But oh boy, the body keeps the score.
First week off sugar? Glorious. Less bloating, slightly clearer skin, my jeans were a tiny bit looser. I was smug. Like, “Look at me, treating my body like a temple” kind of smug.
But my liver? Screaming in the background like, “GIRL, YOU STILL POURING POISON INTO ME THOUGH.”
Let’s be clear: alcohol is sugar. A sneaky, shape-shifting, socially acceptable sugar. You stop eating cupcakes but keep sipping rosé, and your body’s still breaking it down into glucose.
That means your insulin’s still dancing like it’s a damn rave, your liver’s grinding overtime, and those sugar cravings? Yeah, they don’t actually disappear—they just get drunk and start whispering worse ideas into your brain. Like ordering fries and a second margarita.
Not to mention the emotional mindfuck. You’re doing something good—cutting out sugar takes serious willpower. That should feel empowering. But when you’re still drinking, your progress feels… half-baked.
You get this weird shame/guilt hangover that’s not even about the tequila. It’s about knowing you’re self-sabotaging but still doing it anyway.
Been there. Swam in that pool. Almost drowned in it too.
Wanna talk about sleep? Oh lord. You think quitting sugar is gonna give you restful, baby-angel sleep? Not if you’re still sipping wine before bed. Alcohol might knock you out fast, but it murders your REM sleep.
You wake up at 3AM, dry mouth, existential dread, staring at the ceiling like “what am I doing with my life?”—yeah, that’s the booze. Not your unhealed childhood trauma (well, maybe that too, but you get my point).
And weight loss? Ha. Try losing fat when your liver is too busy detoxing alcohol to process anything else. It’s like trying to clean your kitchen while your toddler’s throwing spaghetti on the walls. Nothing productive is happening, no matter how hard you scrub.
But this isn’t a finger-wagging, “You must be pure” sermon. I still enjoy a good cocktail now and then. I’m not about that self-righteous health cult life. But I had to get honest with myself.
If I’m quitting sugar for my health, my skin, my sanity—then alcohol can’t keep slipping through the back door wearing a bowtie pretending to be a treat.
You don’t have to quit drinking forever. But take a break. A real one. Like, four weeks minimum. Let your body see what it actually feels like to be free of the sugar cycle—because yes, alcohol is part of that cycle.
Spoiler alert: you’ll be shocked.
More energy. No more 3PM slumps. Your skin? It starts to glow like it’s been kissed by moonlight and coconut oil. You’ll wake up without that weird fuzz in your brain, and your cravings? They ease off. For real this time.
And then, maybe just maybe, you’ll sip that next glass of wine with a new kind of awareness. Not guilt. Just truth.
So yeah, cut the sugar. But don’t play yourself by forgetting about the booze.
Your body’s smarter than you think.
