stop drinking soda

So I made this deal with myself that I would stop buying soda at the grocery store – even those small cans because I kept drinking more than one at a time.

However, said pact did not specify whether I could make desperate trips to the nearest gas station to buy an impulse can.

I’ve sank so low as to getting other people to stock their homes with soda and then pilfering cans (“Mom, you have soda at your house, right?”). I’ve even found myself scrounging for spare change like a junkie in the pockets of my car door, frantically trying to get a soda from the machine outside of the grocery store.

This is ridiculous as there is no point in limiting my Coke-buying if I’m just going to resort to other sources.

I bought two sodas today at a gas station and then one from the machine at work. By the end of the day, I was bouncing out of my chair.

I just can’t seem to ditch this habit.

It just takes one and I’m done. To think I had been doing so well that week I had stopped drinking the black bubbly only to throw it away on a month-long binge of stomach-disintegrating phosphoric acid.

Despite knowing that the stuff doubles as toilet bowl cleaner, I can’t seem to pry it from my overly-caffeinated clutches.

It calls to me in my sleep, beckoning to be accompanied by a late-snack … or two. I know that before long, I’ll resemble a Holstein but I can’t resist its sweet temptation (and no, the diet version is highly inferior and equally toxic).

It takes over my mind, eradicating all self-control. I think, at least it’s low in sodium, that’s kinda good. Besides, a bunch of people have worse addictions. There’s always crystal meth and that stuff Anna Nicole was taking. I mean, so far I’ve managed to retain my teeth and the ability to speak in complete, coherent sentences. Heck, even our president can’t do that and he’s in charge of a country.

But deep down inside, in the depths of my soon-to-be pitted hollows, I secretly feel guilty knowing I am too weak to overcome a simple concoction of syrup and seltzer. Have I no shame?

Oh, soda, you evil wretch. I just can’t do this anymore. We must part forever or I shall constantly be carrion in your caramel-colored claws. That, and I don’t want osteoporosis.

I’m sorry.

I’ll miss you.

Think of me often.

Goodbye, my love.

I had a slight relapse this evening, drinking a Coke after a week or so without one. I don’t know what came over me. But it was like as soon as I finished it, I wanted another one. What the hell is in that stuff? I looked at the ingredients again to make sure. Yep, no crack. Huh, that’s so weird. I didn’t have the second one but I still felt bad.

Ouch. It hurts behind my eyeballs. Soda can’t be good if this is what withdrawl feels like after two days. But despite the occasional headache, I have more energy and am not eating as much. Cool.

My last soda is in the refrigerator and I’m not buying any more. I think I’ll ration it until I start clawing at the walls.