Nearly every day I take my life in my hands -- 20 fluid ounces at a time. Pop goes the will power.
While not a two-liter a day soft drink junkie, I am a habitual offender. Sadly, I even pay a ten-cent deposit for my addiction. Whether bottle or can, soda or pop, I'm among the millions of Americans who can't get through the day without paying a visit to the doctor -- Dr. Pepper that is.
As vices go, soda sipping falls between smoking and watching reality TV reruns. All three are detrimental to your well-being; although there is no such thing as second-hand high fructose corn syrup. Just be warned, too much "American Gladiators" can pop brain cells.
Unlike smokers who light up before breakfast, I feel no compulsion to roll out of bed and crack open a Coke. However, this speaks more to brand loyalty than commendable restraint. I usually hold out until noon before I hit the bottle -- or soda can.
Round figure wise, the typical American drinks more than 60 gallons of soda every year. So it's no wonder my minivan has 14 cup holders. It seems unfathomable that I could down 226.8 liters of this liquid refreshment over 12 months. Of course what fast food order isn't complete without a straw attached to a 55 gallon drum of pop.
Thankfully I exercise -- including the self-control workout -- just enough to keep another fact from weighing me down: one daily can of soda can pack on 15 pounds a year. Soft drinks are also criticized in health circles for playing a role in childhood obesity, diabetes, hyperactivity, hypertension and dental decay. And if you drink "diet" soda you might as well roll on a fire ant hill wearing only a lunch meat necklace.
However, habits involving caffeine, Yellow 5 and other "natural flavors" are hard to break.
How else can you explain complying with the fickle whims of the pop machine. After repeatedly rejecting my dollar bill, I still kowtow to the keeper of the Mountain Dew. I smooth out the creases across George Washington's face better than Botox -- still no pop. I wet the edges of the currency with my own saliva -- still no pop, and fewer friends after that demonstration.
In disgust I vow to change my soda pop ways -- starting with four quarters.
Perhaps I should go cold erythorbic acid and give up pop drinking altogether. Water would certainly be a healthier alternative -- no addictive qualities or bottle deposit. Then again, I could wait until someone files a soda pop class action lawsuit. Of course if the judge rules on the side of the outlandish free will argument, pop goes that case.
For now the soda choice is in my hands. Unfortunately, so are a few fluid ounces after writing this column.
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