Expose! My Coke Habit.

Yes.  I have skeleton in my closet.  It's right next to a  2-liter bottle of caffeine free diet Coke.  This effervescent nectar of the Gods is now under attack by Dr.  Vasan Ramachandran.  Or as I like to call him, Dr Buzz Kill. In a recent study, Dr. R and his league of soda bashers revealed that "people who drink one more more diet sodas each day developed the same risks for heart disease as those who downed sugary regular soda."

"Researchers found that those who drank one or more sodas each day -- diet or regular -- had an increased risk of metabolic syndrome.  Which is a catch all phrase for heart disease markers -- large waist, high blood pressure, high blood sugar, cholesterol and triglycerides."  Depriving me of this aspertame infused delight is like stripping Larry King of his suspenders. Or ripping off Trump's toupee or asking Dick Cheney to smile and pay it forward.

But let's start at the beginning.  When I was a toddler, I was offered a sip of a vile liquid called Moxie.  My frail body collapsed.  I had the equivalent of a full body dry heave.  If you stuffed prunes into a box of baking soda and stirred in some brackish pond water, you'd have Moxie.  I needed an antidote and there it was hiding in plain site.  A bottle of Coke. Sure, the parents were pushing milk, but I knew the sheer scarcity of the coke meant that it was a precious commodity.  Even a 3-year-old knows what is forbidden is probably good.

Sadly, I was drinking about a quart a day by the time I was in junior high school.  My teeth looked like Dustin Hoffman's in Papillon. And whatever chance I had for a growth spurt was nipped in the Billy Barty stage.  It got so bad, that I was forbidden to drink coke at home.  So, I did what every addict does, I stashed a case of the stuff at my best friend's house.   How did I earn my coke money?  Well, in some ironic twist of good fortune, I could trade in empty bottles of coke for cash.  5 cents for bottle.  It wasn't drinking coke, I was creatively recyling it. 

Sure I've tried drinking other proletarian swill, but only Coke will do.  Aside from Cabot's Chedder Shake, it's my only vice.  When I combine the two, I've reach a state of being so amazingly spiritual, I started wearing Ghandi diapers.   Well, I might have to rethink my shame.  My triglycerides are climbing, my waist is expanding and the Dentist is stalking me.

I will try to give up the demon brew. In case of emergency, there's one in my closet.