When I was 13 I spent a lot of time at Missy’s house. Missy was my BFF. And we always signed things LYLAS. Of course, I liked her a heck of a lot more than I liked my real sisters at the time, but that’s another tale for another day. She had a big house. Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, full basement with computer with print shop loaded on it for goodness sake! She was rich and I was poor. Her father drank manhattans and all the girls drank diet pepsi.
Missy was little. Like 5’3″ and less than 100 pounds little. I was thin enough, but I was 5’10” and I felt like an amazon around her and all the little people I went to school with. I hit 5’10” at around 12. I was the second tallest person in the whole school for awhile, except for one boy who either failed a few grades or had a glandular condition. So I “felt” fat. I felt big and huge compared to all the little girls. So I decided it was a good idea to drink diet pepsi as well. And thus began the addiction.
I’m 33 now. I have been drinking diet soda for 20 years. Mostly diet pepsi, but a good amount of diet coke as well. Two and a half weeks ago I swore to give it up. There were headaches, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, and a hell of a lot of sleeping.
But last night I caved. I decided that life without diet soda was a sorry state of exsitence. And believe it or not, I stayed up past 9pm. My fridge is full of shiny cans and I am a happy girl. And I’m pretty sure that I have completely altered my genetics in some sort of mad scientist fashion with this stuff. But I don’t care. I’m not tired, I’m happy, and excuse me, I am going to go open a can and let the fizzies tickle my nose before I drink it.