fuck dry january

We’ve all got that one annoying mate who decides when January comes around that a month off the sauce is somehow going to cleanse their souls and turn them into a health goddess. I get it, I really do. We all overdo it on the pigs in blankets over Christmas and come out the other side of December with slightly more padding than we intended to. We all chug 14 bottles of wine a day in the name of everything that’s festive. We all feel rotten as fuck after spending £3,529 on a G&T down the local NYE party and we most defo all feel the pain of the marathon wait for January pay day. But if you think that 30 days on the wagon – and on your high moral horse – is going to cleanse you of those xmas toxins you are fuckin barmy. Continue reading “fuck dry january”

giving up sugary shite (again) for lent

Today my morning has been sponsored by nutella, sugar and lemon juice, much like the mornings of many of us around the glorious United Kingdom. Our office has been overrun with sugar rushing officey types as we all celebrate (perhaps obtusely) because some guy who may or may not have existed and is now Kanye West took a trip into the desert to fast and pray. My morning looked a little like this: Continue reading “giving up sugary shite (again) for lent”

the myth of ‘casual drinks’: the third drink dilemma

The biggest myth about life in your 20s is that you’re mature enough to go for ‘casual drinks’. These fabled outings see us all end up on our arses at 5am, wondering just how we ended up quite so wankered. Casual drinks always seem to be followed by some life re-evaluation, and the vow to not break the ‘three drink rule’ next time (you can do it baby).

Continue reading “the myth of ‘casual drinks’: the third drink dilemma”

sugar addiction: i’ve gone cold turkey

My name’s Madi and I’m a sugarholic.

Like most people on the planet (saying that makes me feel better), I overindulged over Christmas. Prior to December, I’d actually managed to get into a nice routine of three meals a day, and kept snacking to a minimum (which is a momentous achievement for myself), but the festivities reeled me back in (much like a crack addict) to an earlier version of myself, who snacked all day on chocolatey goodness and slept past midday. Continue reading “sugar addiction: i’ve gone cold turkey”