It has been 10 days, 11 hours and 25 minutes since I had my last Coke. But who's counting?
This is not a Lenten observance. I really don't believe God would want me to be this unhappy, and so giving up Coke has never even appeared on my Top Ten list of possible things to give up for Lent. TV, absolutely. Gossip, an annual favorite. Iffy line calls in tennis, of course. Swearing, yes, but well, but I've learned to be realistic about the half-life of that one. But Coca Cola? That would be too much like giving up bathing or clean laundry. Lent is supposed to be an exercise in wholesome self-sacrifice, not masochism.
The dentist made me do it.
The dentist claims this all started about 30 years ago when I savored my first Coke. This was a right of passage in my family because my parents, who also had a taste for "The Pause that Refreshes," issued a decree long before I was born that no one under 12 could even touch it.
While other kids had to sneak cigarettes to feel grown up, all I had to do was raid my mom's latest stash of those adorable little six ounce bottles. By the time I was 14, a Coke float was a staple of my diet, every day after school. I also became a connoisseur, not only passing every blind folded "Pepsi challenge," but eschewing all other would-be Cokes altogether. Given a choice between going thirsty and settling for a Pepsi or a diet-anything, I would go thirsty.
With only four annoying, nine-month interruptions, I have been enjoying Coke on at least a daily basis. (And if giving it up during pregnancy is not proof of perfect, maternal devotion, then I don't know what is.)
I claim this all started about two weeks ago when my regular dentist's hygienist struck a nerve during a routine cleaning and interrupted my attempt to count the pores above her mask.
"Don't do that," I politely warned her, and added a friendly little shove for emphasis. Instead of backing off, she fetched her gang leader and then they were both on top of me with their matching masks and gloves, poking me with tools, and doing the very thing, together, that I had JUST told her NOT to do. (I had to squint under the glare of the light to make sure my own, insubordinate kids were not behind those masks and scrubs…)
"You have an exposed roots that are very tender to the touch," they deadpanned. "You know what causes this pain, don't you?"
I didn't have a prayer of getting into dental school (since I didn't even apply) but I am not stupid. I had no doubt about the cause. Ten minutes earlier, when I was sitting in the chair, minding my own business, and mulling over what combination of cut, color, and curl I should pursue this spring, I was perfectly content and pain-free. Then the dentist's henchman came after me with her miniature Sears Craftsman pressure washer and suddenly I was Dustin Hoffman in that terrible Mengele scene in "The Marathon Man."
"I know all about 'cause and effect,'" I assured him. "I lecture my kids about it all the time. My teeth felt FINE until I came here, so there's your obvious cause and effect."
He pulled down his mask, exposing his brilliant, white perfectly straight, and ever-so-flossed teeth, and spoke to me very slowly and carefully, in simple monosyllabic words, just like I do when I have to repeat my order in the drive-thru for the third blessed time (and I am only ordering a Coke at that). I knew I was in trouble.
Perhaps you have seen that Jeremiad about the evils of Coke floating around the Internet. It rants about how Coke will remove rust stains, clean your carburetor, dissolve raw meat - it's all very one sided and paranoid, really. It conveniently leaves out the part about how Coke is a quick, refreshing Breakfast of Champions. It does not mention that a Coke and a candy bar (preferably a Milky Way) makes a handy lunch that you can easily eat on the go and that does not make you the least bit drowsy the way a tummy full of a hamburger or chicken salad will. It also overlooks the fact that when you are feeling a bit peckish and low-energy at around 4:00 p.m., that third Coke of the day helps you round that last base and slide into home around 6:00 with ease.
But now I am waxing nostalgic.
I actually held a kind of ceremony for enjoying my final Coke. As I rolled through the drive-thru after scheduling gum graft surgery at the periodontist's office, I yelled, "And Supersize that, please!"
Since quitting, I've learned several important things. It takes
a good week, (my kids might say a good month) to rebuild the sunny
disposition that I had propped up with sugary Cokes all day. Cold,
bottled water is a far more healthful and wholesome alternative
to Cokes, or any carbonated beverages for that matter. And finally,
I've found it IS possible to acquire a taste for Diet Coke.