My name is Adam, and I am a Coke-aholic. It's been two weeks since my last drink.
Actually, it's been a bit over two weeks, but it's been two weeks since I've had a carbonated beverage of any kind. I didn't plan on quitting. I didn't really think I needed to quit. But we ran out of Coke, and I just decided to stop drinking it.
If you know me like the carbonated beverage industry knows me, this might shock you. I used to go through 4-6 cans a day, easy. If I really went on a binge, or if there was a two-liter around, I could pretty much drink however much Coke there was available. Waitresses, I think, didn't like me too much on account of the double digit refills I would usually require. Then a while back I tried to cut the high fructose corn syrup consumption down and managed to limit myself to one or two cans a day. But I still had my weak moments. But I would never go a day without a Coke . . . until now.
I guess it's good for me that I've stopped. I mean, I know it is. I don't really miss it that much, to be honest. If anything, I'm surprised. I thought that whole "I could quit anytime if I wanted to" line was a big load of hoo-ha, but it turned out to be true. I'm not shaking. I'm not hallucinating (at least, my new friend Jacque the Purple Monkey says I'm not). And I don't plan to drink Coke ever again. I think it just might be one genuine, honest-to-goodness change.
Weird. I thought there would be electric shock therapy for that kind of thing to take place.
Anyway, here's my challenge to you, whoever you are. Give up something. Just do it. Or just don't do it. Whatever the case may be (24-pack or fridge case 12-pack).
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