When I was a wayward youth, I pretty much got grounded every summer. The summer I was 13 and stuck at home with my Mom, I picked up her Diet Coke habit. Actually, when I think back on it, I was drinking TAB and watching Dallas in the early 80’s, so my aspartame addiction spans life-long. I know it’s bad for me. I’ve known it’s bad for me. I’ve shared my Diet Coke shame before (as loyal readers remember). Recently, while watching the documentary Hungry for Change, listening to Dr. Christiane Northrup describe the brain-cell-killing jamboree aspartame causes made me side-eye my beloved Diet Coke with new disgust.
I confess I drank an absurdly large amount of Diet Coke, mostly out of cans, 6 or more a day for years. I’ll wait while you judge. Considering the depth of my habit, I was prepared for an intensely difficult withdrawal period. Surprisingly, I’m fine. I’m drinking tea for caffeine and La Croix for fizz. I haven’t had any conscious hardcore cravings. Of course, I had a dream about popping a Diet Coke last night, but that’s just my subconscious cleansing itself of my filthy addiction.