My relationship with Co’-Cola has been long and enduring. Think Object Constancy. People come and go--die, divorce me, pick drugs over me--but Coke is always there for me. But then I got diagnosed with Type II Diabetes. So I had to have the whole “it’s not you; it’s me” conversation with the true love of my life. It sucked.
When I got diagnosed, I was locked in a hospital for 7 days and completely deprived of my sugary drug of choice--which made the separation easier, I suppose. When I gained my freedom, I’d gotten over the caffeine withdrawal headache, which was monstrous, I assure you. I was terrified if I indulged again I would either die, go into a permanent coma, ruin my liver, lose my vision, have a stroke, have a heart attack, have my limbs amputated … you get the idea. Nothing less would have made me give up Coke.
I’ve tried and failed so many times. In fact, I once shared a list of life goals with my cousin-friend Randi Leigh, and she laughed pretty hard that I had marked “given up” by that goal but still had Meet the Dalai Lama included. “You really think that’s more likely to happen than you giving up a soft drink?” Ahem. I DID, in fact, get to see the Dalai Lama give a talk in New Orleans shortly after that conversation, so THERE. While I didn’t technically meet him, I do consider that goal pretty much accomplished.
Anyway, the diagnosis was early February. No Coke for at least a month. Then I let myself try 4 ounces, just to see what would happen. My sugar spiked pretty quick like, and I immediately felt like crap. No way to sugarcoat it (ick, bad word choice). I could not drink Coke anymore. Ever.
So, I was militant in not even taking a sip.
Until I lost my job this week. On Monday, I got fired for, haha, being diabetic. Not that simple, but that’s sort of the story. I believe it was justified, blah, blah, but that doesn’t make it suck any less.
Since I seemed to have misplaced my healthy coping skills--or not misplaced, but doubted their potency (a bubble bath or watching the waves for an hour was NOT going to fix this)-- I bought myself a cold 20-ounce Coke. I waited til I got home to drink it, lest I spike my sugar, pass out and wreck. I even made sure Mama was on the couch with me in case she needed to rush me to the hospital. See, responsible like.
And it was good. Oh, was it good. But. It wasn’t THE SAME. It was too sweet. The corn syrup didn’t bite the back sides of my tongue like it was supposed to. Usually that first sip is so divine, I close my eyes in ecstasy and all is instantly right with the universe. Ommmmm.
Like an awkward former couple where too much damage has been done, too much time has passed, the relationship has been irrevocably damaged. I felt a couple of tears well up before I finished the bottle, but blinked them away. (No, I’m not kidding). I wasn’t crying because I lost my job; I was crying because I’d lost my Co’-Cola.
I know y’all think I’m being ridiculous. But let me try to explain a bit more.
When I was growing up, sweet tea was constant but in a different way. It was always on hand. I was either drinking it or watching Mama make it, or later making it myself. We were never out of tea bags or sugar. I mean, this was red-dirt-road Alabama. And we took our tea seriously. I mean, I only call it sweet tea because some non-Southerners might be reading this, and I don’t want y’all confused. If you ordered sweet tea in those parts, you’d out yourself as “ain’t from ‘round here” quicker than your accent ever would. So tea. It was delicious, but I took it for granted.
Coke, on the other hand, was a treat. When Daddy loaded us all up in the truck to visit his parents, or take us to the beach maybe, sometimes we’d stop at Stinson’s and get a cold 8-oz. glass treasure from the machine out front. If we were extra lucky, we’d go inside and I’d get a little pack of Sixlets. But the Coke was what I pined for, what I delighted in. We passed that store every time we went to school, every time we went to town. So I’d look forward to just seeing the dang Coke machine. But actually stopping wasn’t super common. Still, it was THERE.
When I was an adult, I could buy Coke anytime I wanted, more or less. I became a habitual user, but I never lost the high.
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Hope and Coke on a date at the zoo in Trinidad, fall 2013. |
Then came a trip to Trinidad and Tobago. I’d known in theory that different countries had different formulas of Coke. But I was unprepared for the weirdness of Coke with no corn syrup. I drank it constantly nonetheless, and I’m sure the people who were dealing for me would be shocked to hear me say I didn’t like it as good as my home version given the mass quantities I drank while I was interning that semester.
But the first thing I did when I got home was demand a meal of Coke and boiled peanuts. Do not judge. Bama girl, remember? It was glorious.
Sure, it was fantastic to, you know, see friends and family, have access to hot water, be able to understand everybody’s accent, see pine trees, be HOME. But, oh, the COKE. Sigh. What a reunion.
Anyway, back to this week. I thought that maybe because my Monday Coke was in a plastic bottle, that was the problem. So I snuck into Walmart like a criminal Tuesday and bought a 6-pack of the good stuff. The 8-oz. glass bottles. Put ‘em in the fridge. Waited hours to make sure they were well and truly chilled. And I popped one open, thrilling at the little fizzy noise. I took a tentative sip. And motherf--------! Still too sweet! Are you friggin’ kidding me??????? I had the second one Wednesday. A third yesterday. Same deal. I guess it really is over.
I have three left. I am going to give them away. There’s no point in drinking them. I don’t get the same emotional payoff. And it’s too dangerous anyway, what with the aforementioned threat of death, coma, amputations, etc.
I know I should be glad, as this development will make it easier to stick to my new healthy eating lifestyle. (expletives deleted). This is a GOOD thing. This IS a good thing. THIS is a good thing.
Maybe if I say it enough, find the right inflections, I’ll move on and get to a place of acceptance. Maybe.
Author’s note: Don’t tell me to try Coke Life with stevia. I did. It sucks. Same with Diet Coke. That stuff should be removed from the market, it’s so awful. It’s over for Coke and me, and that’s all she wrote.
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