Pop-free: Two years and counting
Though I missed the official date by three days, a gloating, celebratory post about being pop-free for two whole years is better late than never.
That’s right — I have been pop-free since August 2, 2013, when I washed down a delicious Oasis falafel and small tray of fries with Mountain Dew.
Have I been tempted to drink pop during my second year of abstinence? Not really. I suppose I have a soft spot for cream soda, but it is easily conquered. (For a month or so during the Apartment 12 days, I drank a lot of cream soda. I drank so much of it that its taste became revolting.) After two years, the thought of drinking pop disgusts me. Whenever I see someone drinking from a can or bottle of Sprite, Mountain Dew, or diabetes-inducing, empty-calorie-delivering whatnot I think, “Yuck! How can they drink that shit?”
People have offered me pop, but I kindly decline and mostly spare them the details. It has not been a big deal. When I do tell people I don’t drink pop, nobody hounds me about it. When it comes to my vegetarianism, though, some people become offended and feel the need to conduct an intervention, as if being a vegetarian is akin to substance abuse. “What do you eat?” they ask, as if humans are strictly carnivores and can only eat meat. “How do you get your protein,” they ask, as if there are no other sources of protein and we need to gorge on whole animals at every meal, like a T. rex. Nobody questions my resolve to not drink pop. Some people express admiration. It’s encouraging and reinforces my own, strong-willed commitment.
Will my pop-free streak end sometime in the next year? At this point, I think the only way I would consider drinking pop again is if Dr Slice returned to shelves and soda fountains.
That’s right — I have been pop-free since August 2, 2013, when I washed down a delicious Oasis falafel and small tray of fries with Mountain Dew.
Have I been tempted to drink pop during my second year of abstinence? Not really. I suppose I have a soft spot for cream soda, but it is easily conquered. (For a month or so during the Apartment 12 days, I drank a lot of cream soda. I drank so much of it that its taste became revolting.) After two years, the thought of drinking pop disgusts me. Whenever I see someone drinking from a can or bottle of Sprite, Mountain Dew, or diabetes-inducing, empty-calorie-delivering whatnot I think, “Yuck! How can they drink that shit?”
People have offered me pop, but I kindly decline and mostly spare them the details. It has not been a big deal. When I do tell people I don’t drink pop, nobody hounds me about it. When it comes to my vegetarianism, though, some people become offended and feel the need to conduct an intervention, as if being a vegetarian is akin to substance abuse. “What do you eat?” they ask, as if humans are strictly carnivores and can only eat meat. “How do you get your protein,” they ask, as if there are no other sources of protein and we need to gorge on whole animals at every meal, like a T. rex. Nobody questions my resolve to not drink pop. Some people express admiration. It’s encouraging and reinforces my own, strong-willed commitment.
Will my pop-free streak end sometime in the next year? At this point, I think the only way I would consider drinking pop again is if Dr Slice returned to shelves and soda fountains.
