My Corona-esque moment in Tortola

 In order to reach my health and wellness goals, and due to the fact that my 30's has hit me like a Mack Truck speeding out of control down a steep canyon road, I am dabbling in healthy eating.  I say "dabbling" because I have a dirty little secret.  I guess for anyone who spends more than 10 minutes with me it's not much of a secret - but I am ashamed none the less.  Here it is.  Are you ready?  I am a Coke addict.  Not cocaine, but Coca-Cola.  I tell my husband that he will never understand my love affair with Coke.  It's almost like the other man in our relationship.  There is nothing quite like cracking open a cold one.  I know many of you may be giggling at this point, as I make it sound like a quality beer.  First, I can't stand beer.  It smells foul, I don't think it's all that lady-like, and it looks like urine.  And not urine that's been sitting for a while, but the fresh kind the subcontractor at the jobsite just deposited into his leftover cup from lunch and left sitting on the floor in some nook or cranny.  Please don't blame my parents.  It's not their fault.  My dad worked time and again to educate me on the delicious nature of beer, and assured me that it is an acquired taste.  Anything that takes that much time to acquire a taste for has no business spending any amount of time tickling my tastebuds.  But Coke.  That is a whole different story.  When I am having a bad day holding a Coke in my hand seems to make things better.  When I'm having a good day topping it off with a Coke makes it that much better.

My addiction to Coke is an inherited trait, passed down from the women in my family for at least two generations now.  You can always tell when you are around a group of us as you will find half empty cans just about everywhere you look.  I forgot to mention that I'm a nurser, not a gulper.  It may take me two hours to get through a 12 ounce can.

So I realized I had a problem recently when an entire 12 pack of Coke disappeared in only 2 days.  I reached in the neat little fridge box only to find it was empty.  At first I wondered who had been sneaking into my stash, since no-one else in the house likes Coke.  My husband is strictly a diet man you see (his only effeminate quality, I assure you).  Could a burgler have broken into my house, decided he was thirsty and given into that thirst with one of my precious little red babies, and then - being so overcome with gratitude for finding such great treasure in the fridge - changed his mind and left leaving everything else in the house intact?  I wish.  I was at rock bottom.  I had put down 12 cans in only 2 days.  How can I complain about my weight when I had consumed a disgusting 1680 calories in only 2 days in beverages alone?  Since there isn't a Coca-Cola anonymous anywhere in the world (except for Facebook but that doesn't count) I decided to go it alone.

So here's my pledge: Only 4 cans of Coke per week, maximum

I think a little piece of me just died.

0 comments