Dear Diet Coke, How Do I Miss You?

(Let Me Count the Ways)

First thing in the morning,easing into the day,
The snappety pop of your lid, followed by your gentle fizz
still haunts me as I sip my morning tea.
Three in the afternoon,
when visited by doldrums
and lunch coma,
You Were There.

You ran over my lips,
tickled my tongue,
cold and tingly bubbles pushing their way
through my veins.
I felt Awake.
Alive.

With lunch, with dinner,
with pizza,
your bitter sweetness and slightly cloying aftertaste
paired perfectly with any food, unlike sweet-sour lemonade
or the sharp nip of iced tea.

In the car: on my way home, on my way out,
for Saturday errands, before a trip to the burbs,
Your sweet nectar, lovingly crafted by McDonald's--
home of the best damn DC on the planet--
Such the perfect passenger for the journey.
What do I do with my hands now?
How to punctuate the ride?
What do I reach for when traffic stops,
cars honk, pedestrians cross the street,
drivers flip the bird?
When sun fills the car,
leaving me parched and bored?

On a hot day, after a workout,
Your cold bubbles spread quickly through this
vast body of mine.
Faster than ice water,
speedier than electrolytes,
I felt your cooling effect in my fingers,
my toes,
my heart.

Dear one,

They've driven us apart
with their talk of illness and poison.
Tell me They're wrong, DC,
and I'll take their advice, throw it over my shoulder
and never look back.
Tell me that you miss me,
Tell me that things will be better,
that you're good for me.

That someday, you'll see me again,
To grace my lips,
igniting sensations from within.

Diet Coke: A Tragic Love Story

 “I’d like a large Diet Coke, light on the ice, please.”

The words trip off my tongue like the name of my lover. A familiar zing hits my brain. Soon, baby. Soon.

When I take that first sip of precious nectar, I close my eyes. Cold, fizzy aspartame lights up all the cells in my mouth: on the roof, the cheeks, the tongue. Carbonation tickles my nose. I swallow and the soda cuts its path down my throat and through my body. Molecule after molecule makes its way to my extremities--fingertips and toes light up with tingly joy. I can feel it move through my body, dispersing until the aspartame and I are one and the same.

This is bliss. This is love.

Like all tumultuous love affairs, though, outside influences insert themselves into our relationship and begin eating away at the strong bond we share.

Aspartame is bad for you, They say. Weight gain. Depression. Diabetes. Cancer. All horrors my family has experienced firsthand. My family, long-steeped in the culture and obsession with aspartame.

Since they first introduced Diet Coke in 1982, I cannot remember a time without its sweet-with-a-bitter-aftertaste nectar. My parents, firm believers in the axiom that more=better, were devout subscribers of anything low cal, low fat, low guilt. Our freezer was alternately stocked with ice milk and frozen yogurt; our cabinets housed diet cookies; and our counters always boasted two to three varieties of diet soda in two-liter bottles. What better way to curl up on the couch and watch the latest episode of Magnum PI than with a glass full of ice and the great DC?

Diet soda has been the great constant in a life of chaos and uncertainty. It's there to start the day. Need a pick-me-up? It's there. Need a reward for good behavior? It's there. Nothing cools me down, hits the spot, alights my senses like that fizzy aspartame.

After a lifetime together, it's time to say goodbye. I've tried to break it off before, but like a booty call, some catalyst throws me back into Diet Coke's outstretched arms. Once there, it's like I never left. This time, I tell myself, this time will be it. I will stay strong.

I'm breaking it off tonight. It's not me, it's you.

I will feel the pain of loss. I will think of all the good times. I will struggle to imagine a life without it. And, hopefully, I will move on.