Chilled Wine & Real Talk: Why Health Isn’t a Moral Crusade

There is a specific flavor of judgment dominating our social feeds right now. You’ve probably seen it: the pristine, pastel-hued wellness influencer holding up a mocktail, gently implying that if you so much as look at a fermented grape, you are actively failing at life.

Lately, the internet has turned sobriety into the ultimate virtue signal. Let’s clear something up right now: sobriety is a fantastic, life-changing path for many. But health is not a moral issue. Having a glass of wine does not make you a "bad" or "unclean" person, just like drinking green juice doesn’t punch your ticket to heaven.

There is a massive, beautiful, nuanced space between the disease of alcoholism, excessive consumption, self-medication, social dependence, the familiar ritual, or simply enjoying a tasty beverage with friends. And frankly? I’m tired of the moralizing teetotaler party poopers acting like there's no middle ground.

Zest for Life vs. Health as Spirituality

Truthfully, this is why I always felt so at home in the Pilates world. For me, it stood in stark contrast to the yoga world of the early 2000s, which often felt like it was trying to proselytize health as spirituality. Pilates didn't do that.

Joe Pilates himself was a character—he famously loved his German schnapps, smoked cigars, and lived a robust, vibrant life well into his 80s. I found it incredibly refreshing to be in a method where people cared far more about your zest for life than how long it had been since you last ate a cheeseburger, had an Oreo, or knocked back a cocktail.

I remember being in a shop one day and overhearing an incredibly fit, spandex-covered blonde person boasting, "As a fitness instructor, I inspire my clients because I haven't had a drink in seven years."

I stood there thinking: I inspire my clients because if I do go out with the boys, I still wake up with the men and haul ass to class the next morning. I just couldn't relate to that holier-than-thou attitude.

My training roots reflect that exact attitude. Back when I was learning, every single Friday at noon in Drago’s Gym, we would break out the champagne. Without fail, every person in that studio—whether they were a teacher, a client in the middle of a reformer set, or a geriatric gymnast hanging from the trapeze table—would stop and toast with a Dixie cup of bubbles. It was about community, joy, and celebration.

Inherited Beliefs and the "Wine Mom" Trap

But as much as I loved the celebration, we also get an overwhelming amount of messaging from our families, society, and culture that quietly bakes itself into our habits. I think it’s always worth questioning those beliefs. To truly inquire of yourself: How do I feel about this? How true is this for me?

I learned about alcohol from my parents. From them, I learned that drinking could be relaxing, convivial, and fun—a nice little reward at the end of the day. But I also learned that alcohol is a tricky, unwieldy substance that is incredibly difficult for many of us to balance or control.

As I got older, that baseline collided with a massive cultural narrative: the "college party girl" turned "wine mom." You know the jokes, the memes, the signs in home decor stores. It’s a culture that normalizes a high volume of consumption under the guise of stress relief. For a long time, I swam in that sea. At one point, I could easily drink a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc by myself without feeling particularly impaired.

My first real "come to Jesus" moment happened years ago during my Pilates teacher training. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and I was so violently hungover that I was clutching the subway pole for dear life. During my weekly lesson, facing a series of inversions on the short box, I genuinely thought I might pass out or throw up on the apparatus. I decided then and there that I had absolutely no room for hangovers in my life, and thus, no room for excessive drinking.

But what actually qualifies as "excessive"? The official guidelines seem to change every five minutes, and the cultural goalposts are always moving.

The Marie Kondo Approach to Drinking

Years after that subway realization, I decided to truly take the reins. I wasn't looking to change my whole personality or adopt a dogmatic lifestyle, but I wanted clarity. So, I started counting my drinks each week.

Think of it like a Marie Kondo approach to alcohol: holding up the habit, looking at the data, and asking, Which of these drinks truly brings me joy, and which ones am I just having out of course of habit?

When I first tallied it up, my weekly number was 34.

Get ready, because that might sound like a lot to some of you. But the wildest part? When I started counting, I already felt quite moderate compared to my social circle. I didn’t "get drunk." I just had a vibrant social life, worked in environments where alcohol was present, and indulged in the daily ritual of winding down.

Seeing that number was a shock, but it was also incredibly freeing. I immediately cut it in half, spending quite a while in the 17-drinks-a-week range. From there, I set little goals for myself to bring it down to 10. (Which still sounds like a lot to some, but keep in mind, I still maintained one 10-hour bartending shift a week at the time. I had professional obligations!)

And after a while, moderation simply became my habit. Over time, I just became the kind of person who drinks less.

Now, it’s also true that I had a couple of babies during that timeframe, which makes it much easier to abstain for chunks of time—and also turns you into an absolute lightweight. But as all "wine moms" know, parenting stress is real. Giving yourself to other people all the livelong day makes you really, really want a grown-up treat for yourself at the end of it.

Today, as long as I’m under double digits for the week, I feel okay about it. But it is a constantly evolving process.

For a long time, it’s been my practice not to drink during the week. At first, that boundary caused a bit of "binge behavior" on Fridays. But I quickly realized that chugging Pinot Grigio at a Friday happy hour just gave me a raging headache by 8:00 PM, so I chilled out on that pretty fast. More recently, I noticed myself slipping back into a solo cocktail habit on weeknights, which immediately threw off my sleep and wrecked my skin.

It’s not just that I’m older and can't hang (even though I am older and definitely can't hang). It’s that I know myself better now. I am simply better at listening to my body.

Live Your Own Story

I am absolutely not here to encourage you to drink alcohol. If you don’t like it, or if choosing total sobriety makes you feel vibrant and alive, that is amazing. Do you. Healthy comes in many varieties.

But alcohol is not innocuous. It’s a powerful substance, and we shouldn't treat it mindlessly. At the same time, we shouldn't let internet strangers dictate our personal boundaries through shame and virtue signaling.

As we move into June, my challenge to you inside and outside the studio is this: Make sure you aren’t just following the beliefs of someone else. Make sure you aren’t accidentally living someone else's story just because they yelled it loudest on an Instagram Reel.

Listen to your body. Tune into your intuition. Let’s leave the judgment at the door and focus on what actually makes us feel whole.