It’s been four days since I’ve had a Diet Coke and I’m not gonna lie. I miss it.
I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s ridiculous to yearn for a flippin’ soda that’s bad for me but I said I’d be honest about the process so here it is, in all its glory.
I miss it. A lot.
Like, right now, for example. As I sit here with my cup of chicken gumbo while I write, all I can think about is how much I want a Diet Coke. This has been happening all weekend to me. My inner dialogue has been on speed: “Yeah, this slice of pizza is great but wouldn’t it be so much better with a nice cold DC on ice?” “Damn, that bike ride was fun. Shouldn’t I reward myself with a can of Diet Coke?” “This movie is good but what it really needs is a glass of the dark stuff in my hand and then it would be better.”
It’s been difficult.
But like the last time I quit all those years ago, I’m replacing this addiction of mine with sparkling water and though I love those tasty clear bubbles with a fruit essence, I’m grumpy about the replacement.
I hope it’s just the withdrawal talking. I’m pretty sure it is but damn, I’m in the thick of it. The hard part. The time where I try to convince myself I can have just one.
BUT NO. I’m not going to.
I need to stay strong and wipe out this fake-sugar-filled liquid from my mindset.
Benjamin Franklin once said, “It is easier to prevent bad habits than to break them.”
Damn, that man knew what he was talking about.