I made the mistake of getting a coke today. Not even diet coke, but the real, sugary kind. I don’t even like coke. When I do drink it, it’s usually diet coke. Not because I like the taste of diet coke better, but simply because it’s marginally healthier than the sugary regular one.
I know exactly why I got the coke too. I was sitting in a meeting at work, and there was a guy right in front of me with a glass bottle coca-cola. The real thing, made with real cane sugar and not high-fructose corn syrup, the kind that was all the rage half a century ago. (Apparently, you can still get these glass bottle beauties at Sam’s Club now and they are made with real cane sugar, not high fructose corn syrup – yuck).
That glass bottle coke looked so good.
I continue to underestimate the power of advertising, and my own will-power. No doubt it was the combination of the those very things, and the stress of the afternoon meeting, that made me go straight to the awful vending machine and push the damn button to get a stupid coke in a can, only to be rewarded by the consequences of my rash behavior – a stomach ache, a caffeine headache, and the grim reality that I will never get my 75 cents back.
I make myself sick.
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