I was never a big drinker. Sure, I experienced my fair share of drunken nights in my 20s, but I don’t think I’ve ever been drunk more than a handful of times in my entire life. Alcohol never agreed with me. From the first time I tried it to the last drink I had back in 2022, it was always tough on my body – especially my already sensitive stomach.
Throughout most of my adulthood, before I gave up drinking entirely, I was a strict two drinks-max kind of girl. Friends called me a lightweight, and my long-term boyfriend in my 20s liked to joke that I was a “cheap date” – though it never really felt like a compliment. While my friends could laugh off a hangover and still roll into work the next morning, I would suffer for days – not hours – with intense IBS flare-ups after just those two drinks. The symptoms ranged from severe bloating and constipation or diarrhea to debilitating abdominal pain.
I had my last glass of alcohol the day before my sister’s wedding, in March of 2022. My family and a bunch of my sister’s friends were staying at a resort in Playa de Mujeres, Mexico, for a few days. One of my best friends convinced me to have a piña colada by the pool – even though, by that point, I already knew alcohol only worsened by IBS, which had been flaring with vengeance that year. I told myself that because I was on vacation, my body would somehow tolerate it, despite that it never did back home in New York.
Within minutes, my relatively flat stomach became inflamed and painfully bloated, so much so that I looked like I was in my first trimester of pregnancy. By the end of the night, I was sitting alone in the hot tub of my private suite, desperately hoping the heat would ease the pain and bring down the swelling.
The symptoms carried into the next day, the actual day of my sister’s wedding. I was in so much pain and discomfort that all I wanted to do was curl up in bed with a heating pad. But I couldn’t. I was her maid of honor. From the moment I woke up to the moment I fell asleep, I was in pain. And still, I pushed through every part of that day for my sister.
When I got back to New York, I scheduled an emergency acupuncture appointment with my Chinese medicine doctor. She explained how damaging alcohol can be to the gut microbiome – and why people with digestive or bowel conditions like IBS, colitis, or Crohn’s disease are often better off avoiding it entirely, because alcohol causes inflammation. She also told me that because I’d always struggled to tolerate alcohol, I had likely been intolerant my whole life.
That conversation forced me to reflect on all the times I’d betrayed my body – drinking out of social pressure or fear of being seen as too fragile or “lame,” especially in my 20s. In that moment, I decided to quit alcohol altogether. I haven’t looked back since.
In many ways, the timing worked in my favor. I was 35 when I gave up alcohol – an age when many of my friends, whether the same age or older, were also cutting back significantly or quitting altogether for health reasons. Some were on fertility journeys, others were trying to regulate their hormones while navigating conditions like PCOS, and many simply could no longer tolerate how they felt the morning after a night of drinking. Alcohol just hits differently once you’re in your 30s. Because of that, I didn’t feel completely alone in my decision. I also quit right as the sober-curious movement began gaining momentum in the US after the pandemic, with more people – Gen Z especially – prioritizing their health in new ways. My social life didn’t really change after I stopped drinking, at least not in the way I imagine it would have if I’d quit in my 20s or even my early 30s, pre-pandemic.
To this day, I can’t attend a gathering filled with Latines without alcohol being present. The difference is that because giving up alcohol had nothing to do with sobriety and everything to do with managing my IBS, I never feel tempted or uncomfortable around it. I’ll even make cocktails when I’m hosting, especially around the holidays – coquito included. I just make sure someone else does the tasting for me.
Still, I deeply empathize with the people in my life who want to quit drinking for sobriety reasons and find themselves forced to choose between their well-being and their social lives. Alcohol use remains deeply normalized in American culture, despite younger generations increasingly opting out. It’s why, even now, you can find yourself at birthday parties, holiday gatherings, or casual get-togethers where avoiding alcohol still feels surprisingly difficult.
Giving up alcohol didn’t just reduce my IBS episodes – especially the kind that used to linger for weeks – it came with a long list of unexpected health benefits. My face almost never looks puffy anymore. What TikTok now calls “cortisol face” feels like a distant memory. Months after I stopped drinking, my face naturally began to look more sculpted – even before I started gua sha or facial exercises – which really speaks to how inflammatory alcohol can be.
My skin improved, too. My rosacea became far less of an issue, and the extra pounds I used to gain around the holidays or during travel basically stopped being a thing. And while I’ve always been told I look younger than my age, I’m convinced my face hit an aging pause after I quit drinking at 35. At 39, I still don’t have fine lines, wrinkles, sagging, or more than a handful of gray hairs. There’s a reason so many celebrities, from Jennifer Lopez to Kim Kardashian, credit skipping alcohol as one of their beauty secrets. You can literally see it in their radiant complexions.
The older I get, the more I’ve come to enjoy creating rituals around my health – from prioritizing my gut with mindful eating to building a daily routine that includes supplements like colostrum, black seed oil, probiotics, and digestive enzymes. These days, I mostly drink water and hot, unsweetened tea, with juice or coffee reserved for rare occasions.
Cutting alcohol out of my life has served me in ways that go far beyond my gut – and it’s a choice I’m genuinely proud of. It feels like a decision rooted in self-respect, one that has only made me healthier, more clear-minded, and more grounded. I wish more gut-health experts spoke openly about just how transformative giving up alcohol can be, and I wish we lived in a world that didn’t so casually normalize or romanticize drinking – especially in social settings where opting out still feels like a statement.
Johanna Ferreira is the content director for PS Juntos. With more than 10 years of experience, Johanna focuses on how intersectional identities are a central part of Latine culture. Previously, she spent close to three years as the deputy editor at HipLatina, and she has freelanced for numerous outlets including Refinery29, Oprah magazine, Allure, InStyle, and Well+Good. She has also moderated and spoken on numerous panels on Latine identity.
