I don't even drink! I can't stand the taste of alcohol. Every

Hear the words of Kim Kardashian, spoken not with grandeur but with simplicity, yet holding within them a wisdom worthy of remembrance: “I don’t even drink! I can’t stand the taste of alcohol. Every New Year’s Eve I try one drink and every time it makes me feel sick. So I don’t touch booze—I’m always the designated driver.” This confession, humble and direct, speaks not only of personal choice but of restraint, discipline, and service to others. Though the world she inhabits is often filled with indulgence and excess, she claims for herself a different path: one of clarity, sobriety, and responsibility.

The first truth revealed is the courage to stand apart. To say, “I don’t even drink,” in a culture that celebrates intoxication, is to declare independence from the crowd. Many fall into excess not because they desire it, but because they fear being different. Yet Kardashian admits freely her distaste for alcohol, and in this honesty lies strength. The ancients would call this the virtue of temperance: not simply to deny oneself, but to align one’s actions with truth, regardless of the expectations of others.

The mention of New Year’s Eve is not without significance. This night, marked across nations as a time of festivity, is often clouded with indulgence, when men and women drink beyond reason in pursuit of fleeting joy. Yet she confesses that each attempt has brought only sickness. Thus she refuses the path of folly, choosing instead the role of watcher, protector, and guide—the designated driver. Here, her abstinence becomes not only personal discipline, but service, ensuring the safety of her companions when their judgment is clouded.

History provides us with examples of this same wisdom. Think of Cincinnatus, the Roman farmer who, when called to lead, refused the luxuries of power and returned to his plow once duty was done. His greatness lay not in indulgence, but in restraint. In the same way, Kardashian’s rejection of drink may seem small, but it is a mirror of a greater truth: that true strength is shown not in what one takes, but in what one is willing to refuse.

Her words also highlight the deeper truth about pleasure: not all that brings delight to others will bring delight to you. To force oneself into indulgence against one’s own nature is to betray the self. She says plainly, “It makes me feel sick.” This is more than physical; it is symbolic. For what poisons the body or the soul, even if sweet to others, must be rejected. Thus she reminds us to listen to our own spirit, not merely the voices of the crowd.

The lesson we must draw is this: do not be ashamed of choosing differently. Whether it is refusing booze, walking away from habits that harm, or resisting customs that bring no joy, the path of authenticity is always the higher path. And when your choice brings safety or blessing to others—as the role of the designated driver does—then your restraint becomes a gift. In such choices lies true leadership, quiet yet powerful.

Therefore, let us act with courage and clarity. Let each soul ask: what do I embrace only because others do, and what must I refuse for my own truth? Let us celebrate not only indulgence, but abstinence when abstinence protects and uplifts. And let us remember the wisdom in Kardashian’s simple words: to choose sobriety when others choose excess is not weakness, but strength, and to bear responsibility for others when they cannot for themselves is a mark of honor. For this is the path not only of safety, but of wisdom eternal.