It's sad. When I got pregnant, I did everything in my power to have a healthy pregnancy. I quit the hooch, I quit the fags, I quit the sushi, I quit the coffee, I even quit the smelly cheese and deli meat, which was almost like handing someone my right arm and saying, "Go ahead. Take it. It hurts, but it's better this way."
There was so much quitting involved with my pregnancy that I felt a shadow of my former gastronomically-inclined self. Something had to give.
So where there were once deli meats and raw fish, there was now dee-licious, gut-rotting Coke. Not much, not enough to even make a blip on the caffeine-o-meter, but enough to remind me of the unhealthy or dangerous foods I once loved. Enough to get me through the rough times, to see me through the trenches and onto the other side.
Coke basically became the symbolic stand-in for all of the other food I denied myself. And so, I loved it with all my heart.
I've never really drunk that much soda in my life. A can here, a soda there. But when I was pregnant, I would go out, order myself a Coke with lunch and feel positively raunchy with sin. It was fabulous, the bubbles tickling the roof of my mouth, the perfect tartness that only Coke has mastered, followed by syrupy sweetness tempered by fizz going up my nose. I relished every noxious sip.
Time passed. Babies were born. Stinky cheese was reintroduced to my diet.
And yet I couldn't let go of the Coke which had taken deep root in my food-noodliness. The Coke which had seen me through the dark times? I couldn't just say good-bye! It was like an old friend! Or a secret lover! How could I just turn away from such delightful badness?
Now that as the boy is approaching his hour of food-discovery, as he begins to covet the chicken on our plate and the fun finger foods we get to stuff in our mouths, I know that the Coke needs to be eradicated from the refrigerator.
But I've come to love it so! I need it! I had no idea that I would be moved to savor my Coke in the same way that I once loved my smokes--fully aware of its heinous nature, cognizant of its horrible caloric emptiness, I take delight in every bad sip.
I must say a little prayer for Coke-loving me, and put it to rest. Because god help me if I raise one of those ganked-up, whacked-out, soda-addled children.
Maybe I can just have a little secret stash somewhere in the basement.