Awkward things.

Farewell, My Love

on January 20, 2014


I have given up diet Coke for the millionth time in my life. Ok, slight exaggeration, but that’s the closest I’m gonna get to the actual number today. My brain isn’t into counting right now, or cooking, or writing, or anything that isn’t stabbing me with a cocktail stick and demanding a swig of delicious, brown, chemical death. Another exaggeration, but Coke and I are no longer speaking, and I want it to know that I think it’s a terrible excuse for a drink, that I want my stuff back and also, does anyone know if it’s found someone new already? Not that I care. I don’t care. Ok, I might care a bit.

I hate it, but I want it, and I feel like a heroin addict just writing that. Except that heroin is, according to Russell Brand at least, wonderful stuff, and if it didn’t consume you, we’d all be wrapped up in golden brown blankets of hugs. Great, now I want heroin too. I don’t know what I’m trying to say here apart from I miss having a routine. It’s like being a socially accepted addict. Smokers get kicked outside in the rain, but we Coke heads get welcomed in and offered ice and lemon and straws. Straws! I bet the smokers wish they had straws. Oh wow, I just realised that there will no longer be any straws. Kill me now.

Suddenly I’m just a lowly water drinker, ruining the party for everyone. Fizzy drinkers are waaay below their alcoholic friends on the fun scale, (according to society, who is, in my opinion, a teensy bit judgemental) but I’m not even on the scale. I get a whole new scale of fun, ranging from training to be a yoga teacher, to dieting, to talking about nothing but dieting, to ethical choices bore to Gwyneth Paltrow. I’m on a low rung, I can feel it. I don’t want to do anything right now but complain and lust after aspartame like it’s made of rainbows and joy, when really I know it’s just cancer that’s wearing a feather boa and trying to sell me watches. I know this, I’ve read terrible things that haunt my dreams, but still I reach for the bottle.

So here we go again. It’s day one and already I want to smother myself with a pillow, or find an Egyptian to scoop out my brain and pop it into a Coke-themed canopic jar, where I’m sure it’ll be much happier. Thankfully, I’ve been here a zillion times before, (see how the longer I complain, the bigger the hyperbole becomes?) and I know that it gets better. The trick is to not give in, but that’s a trick I haven’t mastered, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this ranting mess of lustful nonsense.

Coke is everywhere, trying to woo me with its tempting curves and bubbly personality. It’s hard to quit something you’re still in love with, especially when they insist on stalking you. In the supermarket, in Nandos, in the cinema, it’s always there, reminding me of the good times we’ve had together. But no more. No. This time I am strong. This time, I will reward myself with books, I will quench myself with water, and I will beat my brother in this quitting competition, because he too has a problem. So here it is, a promise:

Dear Coke,

It’s not me, it’s you. I’m too good for you. Also, I want white teeth and more money in my bank, which you clearly don’t care about, given your preoccupation with dying my teeth brown and sponging off me at least twice a day. I hope that you can move on with your life like I’m moving on with mine. You know I’ve never forgiven you for printing everyone IN THE WHOLE FREAKING WORLD’s name on your sleeve apart from mine. I mean, what was that about? Rude. Anyway, this is goodbye forever. Don’t try to tempt me back, I have a new love, his name is water and he can lift 500lbs, has an epic moustache, thinks that llamas are awesome, (which makes me wonder what is wrong with YOU) speaks like Ryan Gosling and looks like Vin Diesel wearing a wig and the aforementioned moustache. Ok, so none of those things are true. That’s not the point. The point is that we are over. Done and dusted, (whatever that means) and this is the last time you’ll be hearing from me. I love you, but you’re bad for me and that’s a good enough reason to leave. I hope you find someone new, but someone less awesome than me, because I am petty like that and you’re evil.

Au revoir, mon passé.

Bonjour mon avenir.

PS. I’m gonna keep your bottle and fill it with water. Ha.


4 responses to “Farewell, My Love

  1. joel says:

    You can still have straws. Get yourself some, coloured ones or curly ones. Or coloured curly ones! Yes, get them!

    The way you describe stopping Coke sounds similar to some of the feeling I had from stopping cigarettes. I stopped that a quintillion times too.

    But hey, chin up, this is the year of a new you, a healthier you. Tilly 2.0

    • I feel empowered! I will buy the curliest straw that I can find!
      We will take on the evil addictions together! As superheroes! With capes! Actually no capes… But definitely straws!

      • joel says:

        Why no capes? 😦 I like capes. We can up-cycle curtains into capes. Then we’ll be like something out of The Sound Of Music! … ok, maybe not, I really dislike that film. 😐

        I like straws. Sometimes I drink my coffee through a straw when I’m out at a cafe… seriously.

  2. Sam says:

    This post just reminded me that it’s been a year since I gave up diet soda! I was a total addict like 5+ a day. Diet Mountain Dew in particular was big for me. Honestly though, I remember taking a sip of diet coke a month ago and being surprised how GROSS it tasted. Once you get out of the habit for awhile, it doesn’t taste as good. Also, foods (like fruit) started tasting so much sweeter to me.

    As always, love your writing style. Good luck kicking the habit. You can do it!

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