I'm not the first person to write about soda addictions, and I won't be the last, but here begins my ridiculous, maudlin plea for sympathy: I've had a love affair with sodas my entire life. I want to gag just thinking about this, but I was practically raised on RC Cola. My family used to drink so much of this stuff that we had stacks and stacks of empty glass returnable RC Cola bottles in our home. Of course, we didn't call it RC Cola, we called it pop.
When I tried Coke (real Coca-Cola, that is), I never looked back. It became my 'pop' of choice. I drank Coke like water, in my teens and early 20s, never realizing how many empty calories I was consuming because I was still a skinny little twig with a kick-ass metabolism. I needed not worry about such things as calories. Until around the age of 28.
Even though I was putting on the pounds, I continued to drink Coke like it was a commodity notlong for this world. In 2003, I decided to get serious about losing weight, so I joined a gym. At that point I was drinking at least 3 or 4 Cokes each day, which was keeping a cushiony 15 pounds on my body each year. I decided to make the switch to Diet Coke with Lemon (it had just been introduced on the market at that time). I hated it. I wanted to throw up after every one. Stupid me, I just kept drinking them until I grew used to the taste. Then, I switched to plain old Diet Coke and I haven't stopped. For the most part, it's been a beautiful relationship -- except that one time I got really mad at D.C. for nearly ruining my overpriced Anthropologie purse!
I am an addict. I must have a Diet Coke first thing in the morning. Every morning. I want to stop. I chose not to make this a New Year's resolution because I usually don't make resolutions because it's just too much pressure to perform. I don't need that!
I know D.C. is bad for me. I do. Poseidon has emailed many articles to me about the theories of Diet Coke and the havoc it can wreak on one's system. I've read articles about Diet Coke eventually turning into formaldehyde
when inside the body. I'm a slow learner I suppose because none of this had me scared.
This week, and I don't know why I chose this week, I have started writing my Dear John letter to Diet Coke. I mean, I'm married, and Diet Coke has so many other hangers on, so this will be the best thing for us both. I need to close the door permanently, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Without sounding trite, I wish D.C. nothing but the best for the future.