By Jennifer Savage
I have a little problem. And it comes in a red can.
It’s not a problem, I suppose. But maybe that’s what all addicts say.
My grandmother, who smoked cigarettes for the better part of 40 years, used to say it was the only bad thing she ever did. A life-long Southern Baptist who never had a drink of alcohol in her life, she justified her smoking through one open-heart surgery, then another nearly 20 years later. It was only after that valve replacement that she gave up her cigarettes. While she was in the hospital, chest cracked wide, I dumped the last few cigarettes from her only remaining pack into the toilet. I’d wanted to do that for 15 years.
Girlies eating 100% juice popscicles.
My addiction isn’t as serious but it’s not that healthy either. I’m not a smoker, after living with several the concept was never even one bit tempting. I don’t drink too much alcohol but I do, every day, drink a Coke. And I do show other signs of addictive behavior. I hide it from certain people. (If I’m drinking a Coke in front you, know that I think you are free from judgment and that I’m pretty comfortable with you. You are one of the inner circle.) I justify my behavior. And I think I can quit at any time.
There is something about the sweet cola taste, the burn as it hits my throat mid-afternoon that I have come to love. I know sodas are bad for you. I’ve read Omnivore’s Dilema, in which Michael Pollen warns against high fructose corn syrup. I know sodas are awful for my teeth, my body in general. And still, almost every day, I have one. Just one. (Justifying!) In a can. A small 7.5 ounce can.
And in that can there is nothing remotely healthy. There are 25 grams of sugar, 25 grams of carbohydrates and no protein. High fructose corn syrup is the second ingredient followed by caramel color, phosphoric acid (yikes), natural flavors (seriously?) and caffeine. Like I said, nothing redeemable. But still, I drink it.
I don’t watch my weight in the sense that I have absolutely no idea how much I weigh at any given point. I assume it’s between a ten-pound range and I’m fine with that, though I never actually check. I get lots of exercise, I eat well. And I drink Coke. I don’t drink diet Coke or caffeine free Coke, I drink the real deal, red can Coke. And I know I would probably lose a few pounds if I gave up my can-a-day habit.
Over the years I’ve tried stop. And I have for months and even years at a time. Then something sends me back. Like having tiny babies that don’t sleep and needing an afternoon pick-me-up. Or getting meningitis and having the nurse bring in a cold can of Coke. How was I to say no?
I don’t have a sweet tooth. I don’t love cake or chocolate. I could do without both. I don’t really eat ice cream that often unless I’m stuck with a cone of it in blue bubble gum flavor dripping down my wrist because Eliza has jettisoned it and left me to deal. I prefer graham crackers to chocolate chip cookies and would much rather have something made of onions or strong cheese to a sweet treat any day. Maybe that’s because I have my afternoon Coke to take care of even the smallest sugar craving I might have.
I once admitted my problem to my naturopath.
“Do you eat fast food?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “Not often.”
“Do you smoke? Drink too much?”
“No,” I said.
“Do you eat healthy foods? Drink enough water?”
“Yes,” I said. “Mostly.”
“Then I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said. “You’re not drinking enough of it to really cause any problems. Everyone has their vices and there are so many that are so much worse than a little soda.”
This is why I like her. In one breath she can tell me I’m not taking enough fish oil, that ovulation is a time to open up, create and nurture and in the next tell me that a little Coke never killed anybody.
She asked me once if it was the sugar I was craving. I told her that I didn’t think so. The caffeine, she asked. No, not that either. It’s because my grandmother used to give it to me when I had an upset stomach, I told her. It’s because there is nothing better on a hot Southern, summer day than a cold fountain Coke from the store up the street from my grandmother’s house. It’s a part of how I grew up. It’s imbedded in my memory somewhere with sweet tea and banana pudding. And it probably won’t ever go away.
So the other day when Eliza had taken an empty Coke can out of the recycling, filled it with water and walked around the back yard saying, “Look mama I’m drinking soda,” I nearly had a heart attack.
“Oh, baby, soda isn’t good for you. Let’s not pretend with soda,” I said.
“Because it’s a mommy drink?” she said.
Ah! So she associates it with me! Not the jug after jug of water I drink everyday, not the fruit-filled smoothies I make in the mornings, not the stupidly expensive 100 percent fruit juice I buy by the case but these little red cans. It’s a mommy drink.
She’s imitating me a lot lately. She wears tennis shoes and calls them her running shoes, she’s even started putting a certain shirt and pair of shorts saying they are her running clothes. She watches closely and takes her cues from me.
Even when it comes to Coke.
So here I am at a crossroads. Do I have to give up something I love so that my three-year-old won’t follow in my same high fructose corn syrup laden steps? Do I let a fond piece of my childhood spill into hers?
The bottom line is I don’t really want her to drink soda just as my grandmother didn’t want me to take up smoking. I want Eliza to make a better choice than I do but then, I suppose, I have to show her the better choice.
Is it one of those times where I choose my tiny family over the family I grew up with? Is it one of those times where I commit to the life in front of me instead of the one that’s deep in my memory, where I do what’s right by my little girl knowing my grandmother would do the same thing?
I think so.
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Jennifer Savage is a writer and mama of Eliza and Lucille. Lately, she's learning to be a city girl. She writes from her home in Missoula, Montana. She is also one of Mamalode's favorite writers and you can fall in love with her too at Jennifer-Savage.com Read more of Jennifer's mamalode articles here.
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fountain diet coke is my nemesis and never tasted so good than on a hot august day!
I’ve given it up but have replaced it with Coke Zero. I’m not sure it is healthier because it contains aspartame but I like to think it is. Of course, I’ll never give up the Dew – at least not completely. There are a lot worse things in life that Eliza could associate you with than a soda. Trust me. Having said that, if Will started reaching for a Dew instead of his usual milk, I would have a similar dilemma on my hands.
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