COLUMNISTS

Deidre Dare

Hello, my name is Deidre and I'm an alcoholic. And Jimmy Crack Corn, ‘cause I don't care.

I came to the realisation that I was dependent upon alcohol during my first week in Paris. Whilst I had lost the Moscow Winter Weight, I prefer to be French skinny when I'm in France, so I decided to go on the same emergency diet I've used since late 1980's: the Victoria Principal 7-Day Bikini Diet.

Unfortunately, this diet does not permit the consumption of Bordeaux, champagne or any other alcoholic beverages.

Usually, I like to begin drinking at 5pm, which I consider to be an acceptable start to the cocktail hour. By 6.45pm on Day One of Principal's diet, a bit shaky, I found myself at the wine store, purchasing a bottle of good Chablis.

On Day Two, I didn't make it to 5.30pm. By Day Four, I'd taken the liberty of amending the diet to permit a bottle of wine a night, but only one bottle. And, of course, a glass of champagne.

We are all raving alcoholics in Russia, expatriate and Russian alike. Russia makes you one and you can't avoid it. I come from a long line of alcoholics. I'm half-Russian and half-Irish, for God's sakes: a veritable genetic guarantee that drinking would become, given the opportunity, which living in Moscow presented, my favourite pastime.

But then I noticed that Principal's Diet also forbade coffee. Since coffee isn't fattening, I read on, curious as to why she wouldn't permit its consumption. (It never occurred to me to obey this absurd prohibition, by the way.) Coffee, Principal says, should be avoided because it's addictive. Oh dear! Not that.

What's wrong with addiction, anyway? I'm addicted to many things and I decided to list them out (in no particular order):

1. Alcohol; 2. Diet Coke; 3. Codeine; 4. The American TV series "Lost"; 5. Cigarettes;

6. The King of Spades; 7. Running; 8. Caffeine;

9. Moscow; 10. Masturbation; 11. Nitrous Oxide; 12. The omelettes at Nespresso on Petrovka;

13. Adrenaline; 14. Pump Class; 15. Sex; 16. Any news or gossip concerning Angelina Jolie; 17. Work; 18. Pesto sauce; 19. Pulling out my hair during periods of high stress; 20. Frequent massages; 21. My blackberry; and 22. Whitney Houston's song: "Give Me One Moment in Time".

Reviewing my list, I knew at once I couldn't sacrifice any of these things without a long stint in rehab. I also realized that my life would just be unpleasant without the pleasure they bring me and that I wouldn't be voluntarily giving any of them up during this lifetime. I don't "give things up" and I don't limit the amount of pleasure I permit myself to experience.

I believe we Americans started it, but pleasure, particularly physical pleasure, has become something evil to be avoided. Personally, I think we should grab as much bodily and other gratification as we can, whatever its source.

Yet, knowing my predisposition to chemical dependence, I never tried any real drugs on the theory that I would like them so much, I'd end up overdosing and dying before the age of 30. I'm saving hard drugs for my 65th birthday, when I plan on starting my stint as a fucked-up drug addict. I've always thought it would be cool to die of a heroin overdose at 70.

As it turns out, a bottle of wine has about 600 calories and a glass of champagne 100. Limiting myself to a yogurt for breakfast, a chicken sandwich at lunch and steamed vegetables for dinner, I managed to get the Parisian svelteness I'd been seeking without having to listen to that self-denying prude, Victoria Principal.

Of course every day I did have to throw in long runs that got me high on endorphins, two packs of energy-burning cigarettes and lots of calorie consumptive masturbation. The only thing that I was missing for really quick weight loss was cocaine, but, alas, that will have to wait.

I call this programme "Deidre's Daring Dependence Diet" and I highly recommend it to anyone still carrying their Moscow Winter Weight.

xxoo, DD

Deidre Dare's novel "Expat" can be read online at: www.deidredare.com