Mood: Confused - Sparky and I have spent the last week trying to decide whether we should buy an elliptical or a treadmill
What I'm Watching: Unwrapped (on the Food Network) - currently watching how they make Blow-pops...completely fascinating.
I've always thought of myself as a person without vices. I don't drink much (Sparky's office Christmas party and New Year's Eve being the glaring exceptions but what's a girl to do when she's faced with a never ending river of fuzzy navels and amaretto sunrises?) , I don't smoke (yuck!), and I've never done illegal drugs (does anyone really want to end up looking like Nick Nolte's mug shot?) so you can imagine my surprise when I realized that I, too, have my very own monkey hanging on my back. It seems that while Nancy Reagan was warning us about the dangers of drug abuse, she should have added a little word of caution about the dangerously addictive properties of soda. That's right, soda. Pop. Coke. Pepsi. Rootbeer. For years I happily downed gallons of it's syrupy sweetness without realizing that someday I would regret my complete avarice.
After my humiliating defeat in the battle of the bathroom scale, I decided to make some small lifestyle changes and I figured that replacing my neverending supply of A&W Rootbeer with bottled water would be a good place to start. The first day was great. Oh sure, I really don't like water, but it's good for me and, as a bonus, completely void of calories which will certainly help me in a rematch against the scales, so I gamely drank a couple of bottles. The second day was 'okay' I drank a bottle of water and lusted after the sodas stacked in our fridge but by the third day I was into full on soda detox. I found myself wandering from soda cooler to soda cooler at the Wal-Mart checkout lanes. I pulled out soda after soda, from Big Red to Rootbeer to 7-up, hoping that one of them would have less than a million calories. My hands shook as I put bottle after bottle back, nevermind that I could practically taste the rich sugary goodness sliding down my throat, nevermind that I was craving the carbonated syrup in a way that is usually reserved for chocolate during PMS weeks, I knew I had to resist.
So far I've managed to be strong but I'm afraid that I might need professional help to kick the habit. I've got Betty Ford on speed dial just in case.